Smoking - Chapter 22
Title:: Smoking
Genre:: Drama
Fandom:: RPS Vam, Villinde, Dugera, Lindunn, others.
Rating:: R
Summary:: A story, reaching back to the beginning like a twisted, curling whisp of smoke from a slow burning fire.
Disclaimer::Most characters are property only of themselves; I own the storyline and the writing. This is a work of ficiton; treat it as such.
Links
Chapters 1 - 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
“Move, dipshit, you take up so much goddam space!”
“You’re the one that’s on my armrest.”
“Fuck off, idiot, this is my armrest.”
“Says who?”
“Says the laws of airplane flying. Everyone knows you get the armrest to the right of you!”
“Fuck off, Bam, what a load of bullshit.”
“It is not bullshit, I’m serious, bro! Move, I can’t fucking breathe, your faggotty ass is like draped all over me.”
“Yeah whatever, you wish it was, cocksucker.”
“Shut up, cumslut.”
“Fuck you, ass…liker.”
“Ahhahaha. Dunn, you suck.”
“And you love it.”
“Sirs, I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voices a little, you’re disturbing the other passengers.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. We’ll keep it down.”
“Dude, BamBam, are all Finland-chicks that hot?”
“I dunno, Dunn, check the magazine thing, maybe they’ll have pictures!”
“Dude. What the hell is that? Is that a man? Or is it a woman?”
“Dunno. Why the fuck is it holding a rabbit?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“Well, what is it? Does the thing say?”
“ ‘Ville Valo, singer of the Finnish metal band HIM…’ ”
“Dude, Dunn, correct me if I’m wrong here but last time I checked, there weren’t no metal bands around that played with bunnies.”
“Yeah well, except for like, Ozzy but he just wanted to bite their heads off, this … guy… is just like, petting it.”
“Dude. So you think that’s a guy?”
“Well… it doesn’t have boobs. I’d go with guy.”
“Yeah okay…”
“What are you doin, Bam?”
“I’m tryin to see if he looks more like a guy from a different angle. Doesn’t work. So what’s that article say about Rabbit-Man?”
“That they have a new album out blahblahblah… talk of Finland blahblahblah… hottest man in Finland…”
“Dude, then maybe we actually have a chance, if that’s their hottest guy.”
“Why, you can tell he’s not hot?”
“Well... uh… I just… didn’t figure girls would go for guys that looked more like girls themselves instead of guys that actually you know, look like, uh… guys. You know?”
“Dude, Bam? Do me a favor and shut the fuck up.”
---------------
You know what the first thing I saw when I turned the TV on in our hotel room in Helsinki was? That weird Rabbit-Man’s face. Only this time, I could sort of almost tell it was a man. He had eyeliner on. And by the looks of it, a fuck load of other make up too. And he was talkin’ and laughin’ with an interviewer in Finnish.
“Dude, Random, come look and see what I found.”
“But dude, you gotta see this, they fucking gift wrapped the toilet bowl!”
“Whoa, seriously?” Fuck Rabbit-Man, this I had to see. But I was disappointed. When Ryan said gift wrapped, he meant the cleaning staff had put a strip of paper across the bowl to tell us they’d cleaned it. “Dunn, ain’t you never been in a hotel before? They do this all over the damn place.”
“Yeah but dude, this one’s got Finland speak on it. How the fuck do you say this shit anyways?”
I rolled my eyes and took the strip of paper out of his hands and threw it in the toilet water, already yellow with his piss because “Dude, Bam, I gotta piss so fucking bad right now I’m about to give this taxi a golden shower!”
“Aw, Bam! I was gonna keep that!”
“Quit bein’ a fuckin’ nidiot and come here, you gotta see this.”
But when I finally dragged him back to the TV room, the Rabbit-Man’s face wasn’t on the TV anymore, instead it was some haggard ass old Finnish guy talking about fish or something like that, I don’t know.
“What’s so special about this dude except for the fact that he’s about to keel over stone dead in like 10 seconds?”
“Nah, fuck, you missed it bein’ a fucking nidiot about the toilet bowl.”
I grabbed the remote and started flicking channels on the off chance that a different channel might be playing the same interview whilst I filled Dunn in on what I’d seen. He just rolled his eyes and fell back on the bed in front of the TV.
“Dude, I can’t believe they only booked us a room with a double bed.”
“Shut up man it’s not like you ain’t crashed in my bed before.”
“Yeah cuz I was shitfaced, Bam, I wouldn’t want to sleep next to your haggard ass willingly.”
“Well fuck you very much you hairy Irish cunt.”
“Says you, idiot Italian cock.”
“Fuckin celtic scrotum.”
“Smelly latin… hey, wait, go back, that sounded good. Is this Finland music?”
“Beats me…”
I climbed up on the big double bed and sat next to him, both of us frowning at the TV screen, trying to figure out just what it was that was playing.
“What in the hell…”
“Is that a chick or a dude in drag?”
“The song’s fuckin’ amazing though, dude.”
“Yeah if you’re one of those pussy depressives. The hell? Join you in death? Like hell I’d even join you for a taxi ride or something…”
“Dude, Dunn, shut the fuck up lemme listen.”
The song was fucking intoxicating. That was all I could say. I stared at the screen whilst Ryan sat next to me, tutting and rolling his eyes at the ‘gay ass depressive shit’ but I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. There wasn’t much to the song, some synths and some drums and some awesome, cleverly placed guitar and bass riffs, but it wasn’t about the music, it was all about the guy… the girl… the … and then I realized with a shock that,
“Oh my god, Dunn, its fucking Rabbit-man.”
“Yeah, see, I told you his ass was probably gay.”
“Dude, shut up.”
“Bam. Is he fuckin’ wearing peach lipstick? Who in hell wears fuckin peach lipstick. Especially if you’re a guy.”
“Dunn, shut the fuck up!”
“Dude! He’s tryin to be all vampireish and shit!”
“Dunn, I fucking swear…”
I couldn’t stare at the screen hard enough. And I was beginning to worry what would happen if the song went on for much longer and what was threatening to happen down below actually did happen. Dunn’d never let me forget it. But then… this guy, this Ville Valo, he looked so much like a girl in this that I could maybe pull it off.
But at the same time… he was so obviously… not a girl. His eyes were boring into me, I swear it to this day they were burning into me, and the way he was almost kissing that mic of his with his smoky eyes and that fucking peach lipstick and the campest fur coat ever… and then he was in a fucking red velvet cape and I wanted to almost come my pants it was so … hot.
I’d never felt that attracted to any person before. Except for the person sitting next to me.
His voice was so low. And then so high and like syrup… and then he was sitting on an ice chair and blowing a kiss and I had to change the channel because if I watched for one second longer, I thought I might just explode.
“Dude. What was the name of that band again?”
“I dunno. HER?” Ryan snorted, he thought he was so damn funny.
“Harr harr, idiot. It was HIM, right?”
“Yeah, dipshit. Why, you have a mancrush on Rabbit man now?”
“No! I just liked that song, is all. I wonder if they have the CD somewhere.”
“Well they should do… that song is only fucking number 1 on the charts. Finland people are weird dude.”
“Totally. Come on. Let’s go see what this hotel is all about. Think they have a decent bar?”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!”
Dunn leapt up and lead the way down to the lobby; I was singing the riff to that song the whole night through, playing that 2 second sequence of peach lips blowing a kiss over and over again in my head.
The first thing I did the next day was not - as it should have been - to go downstairs to check in with the people so they knew I was there to do the promo that I was supposed to be doing, but was to wander around the streets of Helsinki - just as I’d been told not to do - trying to find a store that had the CD in it, dragging Dunn’s complaining ass along behind me. I tried to ditch him but he “sure as hell wasn’t hangin around for a load of Finland people to get on his ass about how I wasn’t there when I was supposed to be cuz I was off looking for things to fuel my mancrush.”
He didn’t know how right he was.
------------------
“Yo, BamBam, guess who’s playin’ a gig in London when we’re there?”
“Who?”
“That girl-band you’re obsessed with.”
“What? Fuck off, I thought they only did mainland Europe shows.”
“Yeah, well, they’re playing a teeny tiny venue in London, I have it on good authority from some motherfucker I used to know in Ohio who moved to London way back when and just decided to get his ass to a phone and call me.”
“And he randomly happens to know about HIM?”
“Says he’s known about ‘em for ages.”
“I like him already.”
Bam smirks at his friend; Dunn just tosses him a piece of paper with chicken-scratches all over it.
“Details. Anyways. You want to get packing? We gotta get our asses out of here at fuck knows what time tomorrow morning. I fucking hate driving to New York just to fly out of there…”
“Quit your bitchin, Dunn, and help me figure out how we’re gonna get tickets.”
“Whoa, dude, who said there was a we in this? I ain’t gonna go see no pussy gay ass depressive woe is me band.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Dunn, cuz I’m paying for your flight and for your hotel, you gotta do what I say.”
“Dude…”
“I win. Just give up and come with. It’ll be fun.”
“Like hell it’s going to be fun.” Dunn grimaces and pulls at his long scraggly beard to display his distaste at the thought. “You’re just gonna stand around like some haggard white trash fangirl, creaming your pants and screamin’ your lungs out when that faggotty ass singer of theirs gets on stage, I ain’t seein no fun in that, Bam.”
Bam just laughs and rolls his eyes. Ever since the return from Finland, he’s been downloading and buying and ordering from eBay just about anything HIM-related that he can get his hands on. Every song he hears, he likes more than the last one. There isn’t one song he doesn’t like. There isn’t one song that he can’t sit in his room, put it on repeat, and have the longest, best-est most intense-est wank of his life to, the kind of wank that has his eyes rolling in his head and his legs seizing up and his whole stomach twitching right before he comes in an impressive wave all over his comforter. Its like sex wrapped up in music. It’s not just the voice. It’s the heavy, distorted guitar. The keyboards playing intricate riffs in the background. The pounding drums. But a lot of it is that voice. That sugarcoated, deep but high at the same time, perfectly cracked and scratchy voice that croons words which alone could send shivers up his secretly poetic spine. It sings about things he’s only ever let himself dream about. Love and lust and all the things in between, and death, it’s constantly flirting with death and Bam loves it because isn’t that what he does all the time? Isn’t that what he gets paid to do?
“Dude, you listenin?”
“Huh? What?”
“I said, does your ass want Papa John’s or Dominoes tonight? We gotta stock up on like, normal food reserves before we go to England, who knows what they’re gonna try and feed us there.”
“I imagine they’ll be asking us if we want Dominoes or Pizza Hut there, Dunn. Idiot. England is like sort of like America only it’s been around longer and they’re kind of more stuck up. And they eat greasier.”
“Greasier than KFC?”
“They have KFC there, dipshit.”
“Oh. Seriously?”
“Has your sorry ass never been to England? Dude. What the hell.”
“Man, I’m from Ohio.”
“That ain’t no fuckin excuse, you been in Philly long enough, you’re a Philly man now.”
“Whatever dude. Answer the fuckin’ question before I call in some veal scaloppini instead.”
Bam grimaces and tells his friend to order Papa John’s and leave him in peace already. The truth of it is, he wants to be let alone because he doesn’t want Dunn to see how nervous, nervous and excited, of course, he actually is about this gig.
Because if Dunn’s right, and this gig really is tiny, and they really are there, well. He’s Bam fucking Margera. He’s on MTV. The ratings in England are going up and up, and he’s sure most people know who he is. All it should take is a few words here and there, and he’ll be backstage with the band. Meeting the man - men - behind the music that he can’t get out of his head, or his CD player.
The man who’s purple lidded eyes and peach lips are in his dreams every night. The man whose voice he listens to over and over again as he imagines those lips wrapping around his cock and doing sinful things that he shouldn’t be thinking about another man doing to him.
But for this man… Bam thinks he really wouldn’t care who saw what, or what’s wrong and what’s right, or that he’s supposed to be straight, that he has a girlfriend, even though every time they get into bed together and he has to fuck her he grits his teeth and puts on the best act he can that he’s not disgusted by where he’s sticking his dick.
Shaking that thought out of his mind, Bam stands up to start packing. He should really get rid of that chick. He feels bad for himself and for her. Anyways, she’s nothing but trouble. He sighs and rolls his eyes. He doesn’t know how his friends can stand chicks. The only reason he has a girl is so that he doesn’t have to fuck even more of than he already does and they won’t call him a queer.
Even though that’s what he is.
Oh, hell. He kicks the CD player in his room to turn it on, and Ville’s voice fills the air. Grinning, he starts to pack, forgetting all about how really, he doesn’t like girls at all, and how Jenn thinks he’s cheating on her cuz he doesn’t want to fuck her every night, and how he still wants to get with Dunn even though he’s seen him do the most haggard ass disgusting stunts ever, and how he wishes he could get out of the limelight and be who he wants to be because he’s sick of the façade already, he’s had it up all his life and now… now he just wants to go, meet Ville and run away with him.
Perhaps that won’t happen. But hey, he can at least try, right?
Genre:: Drama
Fandom:: RPS Vam, Villinde, Dugera, Lindunn, others.
Rating:: R
Summary:: A story, reaching back to the beginning like a twisted, curling whisp of smoke from a slow burning fire.
Disclaimer::Most characters are property only of themselves; I own the storyline and the writing. This is a work of ficiton; treat it as such.
Links
Chapters 1 - 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
“Move, dipshit, you take up so much goddam space!”
“You’re the one that’s on my armrest.”
“Fuck off, idiot, this is my armrest.”
“Says who?”
“Says the laws of airplane flying. Everyone knows you get the armrest to the right of you!”
“Fuck off, Bam, what a load of bullshit.”
“It is not bullshit, I’m serious, bro! Move, I can’t fucking breathe, your faggotty ass is like draped all over me.”
“Yeah whatever, you wish it was, cocksucker.”
“Shut up, cumslut.”
“Fuck you, ass…liker.”
“Ahhahaha. Dunn, you suck.”
“And you love it.”
“Sirs, I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voices a little, you’re disturbing the other passengers.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. We’ll keep it down.”
“Dude, BamBam, are all Finland-chicks that hot?”
“I dunno, Dunn, check the magazine thing, maybe they’ll have pictures!”
“Dude. What the hell is that? Is that a man? Or is it a woman?”
“Dunno. Why the fuck is it holding a rabbit?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“Well, what is it? Does the thing say?”
“ ‘Ville Valo, singer of the Finnish metal band HIM…’ ”
“Dude, Dunn, correct me if I’m wrong here but last time I checked, there weren’t no metal bands around that played with bunnies.”
“Yeah well, except for like, Ozzy but he just wanted to bite their heads off, this … guy… is just like, petting it.”
“Dude. So you think that’s a guy?”
“Well… it doesn’t have boobs. I’d go with guy.”
“Yeah okay…”
“What are you doin, Bam?”
“I’m tryin to see if he looks more like a guy from a different angle. Doesn’t work. So what’s that article say about Rabbit-Man?”
“That they have a new album out blahblahblah… talk of Finland blahblahblah… hottest man in Finland…”
“Dude, then maybe we actually have a chance, if that’s their hottest guy.”
“Why, you can tell he’s not hot?”
“Well... uh… I just… didn’t figure girls would go for guys that looked more like girls themselves instead of guys that actually you know, look like, uh… guys. You know?”
“Dude, Bam? Do me a favor and shut the fuck up.”
---------------
You know what the first thing I saw when I turned the TV on in our hotel room in Helsinki was? That weird Rabbit-Man’s face. Only this time, I could sort of almost tell it was a man. He had eyeliner on. And by the looks of it, a fuck load of other make up too. And he was talkin’ and laughin’ with an interviewer in Finnish.
“Dude, Random, come look and see what I found.”
“But dude, you gotta see this, they fucking gift wrapped the toilet bowl!”
“Whoa, seriously?” Fuck Rabbit-Man, this I had to see. But I was disappointed. When Ryan said gift wrapped, he meant the cleaning staff had put a strip of paper across the bowl to tell us they’d cleaned it. “Dunn, ain’t you never been in a hotel before? They do this all over the damn place.”
“Yeah but dude, this one’s got Finland speak on it. How the fuck do you say this shit anyways?”
I rolled my eyes and took the strip of paper out of his hands and threw it in the toilet water, already yellow with his piss because “Dude, Bam, I gotta piss so fucking bad right now I’m about to give this taxi a golden shower!”
“Aw, Bam! I was gonna keep that!”
“Quit bein’ a fuckin’ nidiot and come here, you gotta see this.”
But when I finally dragged him back to the TV room, the Rabbit-Man’s face wasn’t on the TV anymore, instead it was some haggard ass old Finnish guy talking about fish or something like that, I don’t know.
“What’s so special about this dude except for the fact that he’s about to keel over stone dead in like 10 seconds?”
“Nah, fuck, you missed it bein’ a fucking nidiot about the toilet bowl.”
I grabbed the remote and started flicking channels on the off chance that a different channel might be playing the same interview whilst I filled Dunn in on what I’d seen. He just rolled his eyes and fell back on the bed in front of the TV.
“Dude, I can’t believe they only booked us a room with a double bed.”
“Shut up man it’s not like you ain’t crashed in my bed before.”
“Yeah cuz I was shitfaced, Bam, I wouldn’t want to sleep next to your haggard ass willingly.”
“Well fuck you very much you hairy Irish cunt.”
“Says you, idiot Italian cock.”
“Fuckin celtic scrotum.”
“Smelly latin… hey, wait, go back, that sounded good. Is this Finland music?”
“Beats me…”
I climbed up on the big double bed and sat next to him, both of us frowning at the TV screen, trying to figure out just what it was that was playing.
“What in the hell…”
“Is that a chick or a dude in drag?”
“The song’s fuckin’ amazing though, dude.”
“Yeah if you’re one of those pussy depressives. The hell? Join you in death? Like hell I’d even join you for a taxi ride or something…”
“Dude, Dunn, shut the fuck up lemme listen.”
The song was fucking intoxicating. That was all I could say. I stared at the screen whilst Ryan sat next to me, tutting and rolling his eyes at the ‘gay ass depressive shit’ but I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. There wasn’t much to the song, some synths and some drums and some awesome, cleverly placed guitar and bass riffs, but it wasn’t about the music, it was all about the guy… the girl… the … and then I realized with a shock that,
“Oh my god, Dunn, its fucking Rabbit-man.”
“Yeah, see, I told you his ass was probably gay.”
“Dude, shut up.”
“Bam. Is he fuckin’ wearing peach lipstick? Who in hell wears fuckin peach lipstick. Especially if you’re a guy.”
“Dunn, shut the fuck up!”
“Dude! He’s tryin to be all vampireish and shit!”
“Dunn, I fucking swear…”
I couldn’t stare at the screen hard enough. And I was beginning to worry what would happen if the song went on for much longer and what was threatening to happen down below actually did happen. Dunn’d never let me forget it. But then… this guy, this Ville Valo, he looked so much like a girl in this that I could maybe pull it off.
But at the same time… he was so obviously… not a girl. His eyes were boring into me, I swear it to this day they were burning into me, and the way he was almost kissing that mic of his with his smoky eyes and that fucking peach lipstick and the campest fur coat ever… and then he was in a fucking red velvet cape and I wanted to almost come my pants it was so … hot.
I’d never felt that attracted to any person before. Except for the person sitting next to me.
His voice was so low. And then so high and like syrup… and then he was sitting on an ice chair and blowing a kiss and I had to change the channel because if I watched for one second longer, I thought I might just explode.
“Dude. What was the name of that band again?”
“I dunno. HER?” Ryan snorted, he thought he was so damn funny.
“Harr harr, idiot. It was HIM, right?”
“Yeah, dipshit. Why, you have a mancrush on Rabbit man now?”
“No! I just liked that song, is all. I wonder if they have the CD somewhere.”
“Well they should do… that song is only fucking number 1 on the charts. Finland people are weird dude.”
“Totally. Come on. Let’s go see what this hotel is all about. Think they have a decent bar?”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!”
Dunn leapt up and lead the way down to the lobby; I was singing the riff to that song the whole night through, playing that 2 second sequence of peach lips blowing a kiss over and over again in my head.
The first thing I did the next day was not - as it should have been - to go downstairs to check in with the people so they knew I was there to do the promo that I was supposed to be doing, but was to wander around the streets of Helsinki - just as I’d been told not to do - trying to find a store that had the CD in it, dragging Dunn’s complaining ass along behind me. I tried to ditch him but he “sure as hell wasn’t hangin around for a load of Finland people to get on his ass about how I wasn’t there when I was supposed to be cuz I was off looking for things to fuel my mancrush.”
He didn’t know how right he was.
------------------
“Yo, BamBam, guess who’s playin’ a gig in London when we’re there?”
“Who?”
“That girl-band you’re obsessed with.”
“What? Fuck off, I thought they only did mainland Europe shows.”
“Yeah, well, they’re playing a teeny tiny venue in London, I have it on good authority from some motherfucker I used to know in Ohio who moved to London way back when and just decided to get his ass to a phone and call me.”
“And he randomly happens to know about HIM?”
“Says he’s known about ‘em for ages.”
“I like him already.”
Bam smirks at his friend; Dunn just tosses him a piece of paper with chicken-scratches all over it.
“Details. Anyways. You want to get packing? We gotta get our asses out of here at fuck knows what time tomorrow morning. I fucking hate driving to New York just to fly out of there…”
“Quit your bitchin, Dunn, and help me figure out how we’re gonna get tickets.”
“Whoa, dude, who said there was a we in this? I ain’t gonna go see no pussy gay ass depressive woe is me band.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Dunn, cuz I’m paying for your flight and for your hotel, you gotta do what I say.”
“Dude…”
“I win. Just give up and come with. It’ll be fun.”
“Like hell it’s going to be fun.” Dunn grimaces and pulls at his long scraggly beard to display his distaste at the thought. “You’re just gonna stand around like some haggard white trash fangirl, creaming your pants and screamin’ your lungs out when that faggotty ass singer of theirs gets on stage, I ain’t seein no fun in that, Bam.”
Bam just laughs and rolls his eyes. Ever since the return from Finland, he’s been downloading and buying and ordering from eBay just about anything HIM-related that he can get his hands on. Every song he hears, he likes more than the last one. There isn’t one song he doesn’t like. There isn’t one song that he can’t sit in his room, put it on repeat, and have the longest, best-est most intense-est wank of his life to, the kind of wank that has his eyes rolling in his head and his legs seizing up and his whole stomach twitching right before he comes in an impressive wave all over his comforter. Its like sex wrapped up in music. It’s not just the voice. It’s the heavy, distorted guitar. The keyboards playing intricate riffs in the background. The pounding drums. But a lot of it is that voice. That sugarcoated, deep but high at the same time, perfectly cracked and scratchy voice that croons words which alone could send shivers up his secretly poetic spine. It sings about things he’s only ever let himself dream about. Love and lust and all the things in between, and death, it’s constantly flirting with death and Bam loves it because isn’t that what he does all the time? Isn’t that what he gets paid to do?
“Dude, you listenin?”
“Huh? What?”
“I said, does your ass want Papa John’s or Dominoes tonight? We gotta stock up on like, normal food reserves before we go to England, who knows what they’re gonna try and feed us there.”
“I imagine they’ll be asking us if we want Dominoes or Pizza Hut there, Dunn. Idiot. England is like sort of like America only it’s been around longer and they’re kind of more stuck up. And they eat greasier.”
“Greasier than KFC?”
“They have KFC there, dipshit.”
“Oh. Seriously?”
“Has your sorry ass never been to England? Dude. What the hell.”
“Man, I’m from Ohio.”
“That ain’t no fuckin excuse, you been in Philly long enough, you’re a Philly man now.”
“Whatever dude. Answer the fuckin’ question before I call in some veal scaloppini instead.”
Bam grimaces and tells his friend to order Papa John’s and leave him in peace already. The truth of it is, he wants to be let alone because he doesn’t want Dunn to see how nervous, nervous and excited, of course, he actually is about this gig.
Because if Dunn’s right, and this gig really is tiny, and they really are there, well. He’s Bam fucking Margera. He’s on MTV. The ratings in England are going up and up, and he’s sure most people know who he is. All it should take is a few words here and there, and he’ll be backstage with the band. Meeting the man - men - behind the music that he can’t get out of his head, or his CD player.
The man who’s purple lidded eyes and peach lips are in his dreams every night. The man whose voice he listens to over and over again as he imagines those lips wrapping around his cock and doing sinful things that he shouldn’t be thinking about another man doing to him.
But for this man… Bam thinks he really wouldn’t care who saw what, or what’s wrong and what’s right, or that he’s supposed to be straight, that he has a girlfriend, even though every time they get into bed together and he has to fuck her he grits his teeth and puts on the best act he can that he’s not disgusted by where he’s sticking his dick.
Shaking that thought out of his mind, Bam stands up to start packing. He should really get rid of that chick. He feels bad for himself and for her. Anyways, she’s nothing but trouble. He sighs and rolls his eyes. He doesn’t know how his friends can stand chicks. The only reason he has a girl is so that he doesn’t have to fuck even more of than he already does and they won’t call him a queer.
Even though that’s what he is.
Oh, hell. He kicks the CD player in his room to turn it on, and Ville’s voice fills the air. Grinning, he starts to pack, forgetting all about how really, he doesn’t like girls at all, and how Jenn thinks he’s cheating on her cuz he doesn’t want to fuck her every night, and how he still wants to get with Dunn even though he’s seen him do the most haggard ass disgusting stunts ever, and how he wishes he could get out of the limelight and be who he wants to be because he’s sick of the façade already, he’s had it up all his life and now… now he just wants to go, meet Ville and run away with him.
Perhaps that won’t happen. But hey, he can at least try, right?