VIP: Part Ten
Wow. I might actually get one of these little buggers done! No WAY, right? But YES. I WILL. The Ville/Bam must live on.... But I might get a little slowed up, seeing as I owe Daisey a James Hook/Peter Pan, and a girl I don't know a Jono/Angelo/Paige, and I need to do A Jyrki/Ville... God DAMN, I'm a busy little pevert! Fortunately, I am armed with the Marilyn Manson's 'Holy Wood,'compliments of good ol' Dan. Rock.
“You are DISGUSTING.” A phrase unheard of from the Finnish rock god, famous for his shower-less weeks and his affinity for insects. All that escaped him, as he watched Bam dip a leg of chicken in a jar of mayonnaise. Oh gag. The boy ate with relish; then smacked his lips, and Ville eyed his own food, suddenly not hungry at all. He turned to the refrigerator, opened it, then threw the boy a cold beer. His own bottle popped open with a hiss, and he took a swig, grimacing, “Please wash that shit down, that’s the most revolting thing I’ve ever witnessed. I may have to throw you out.” The kitchen around them was vast, cold, well-lighted. The kind of house you just KNEW Ville hadn’t picked out himself, the definitive evidence being the basket of fruit in the center of the kitchen island. Ville probably didn’t even know it was CALLED a kitchen island.
Bam opened the bottle with his teeth and drank deeply, before throwing a foamy smile up at his friend. “Well you’re no fun. Who doesn’t eat chicken and mayo?” With a laugh, he finished off the meat, and threw the bone into the bin with it’s fellows; the carcasses of several other such birds, all a memory now. “You Finnish people… You’re so…”
“Not American?” Ville rolled his eyes and changed the subject, eager to leave the memory of this meal far behind. “C’mon, man, y’won’t ask, but I know you wanna see the studio.” Bam’s eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas, and Ville laughed at him, good-naturedly, “I thought so. Now throw away that fucking mayonnaise; it’s making me sick to look at.” It was Bam’s turn to laugh at him, but he still scrambled to catch up with Ville’s long strides.
“You’re really gonna let me into your studio?? Can I touch your guitars? Can I--- Mmph!” He ran headlong into Ville, who had stopped and turned in an instant. With indescribable grace, Ville dipped and tilted his head, and their lips met for a short moment, with what felt like a mild electrical shock. Dead silence followed this, and Ville smiled like the an angel.
“You can touch anything you want, pretty boy…” The tips of his hair brushed Bam’s face as he turned on the heel of his hellishly-expensive boot and continued towards the studio. Over his shoulder, he called, “Just don’t break anything, and DON’T move any of my ashtrays. I can find those things in the dark.”
Wait. Wait, shit. Bam’s brain tried desperately to catch up with the situation. There was a kiss. He knew that much. Ville, yes, Ville Valo had stepped forward and he had… well, HE hadn’t really stepped forward, it had actually been kind of his own fault… but… it wasn’t a mutual thing! No way! Ville had been the one to tilt his head-but… but…. uh… wait. Did he still get to go in the studio?
One thing was simple enough. His hero, his rock god, had kissed him. And now he was acting like it wasn’t anything at all! His reaction to anyone else doing that… well… he… he’d probably hit ‘em in the face, and ask questions when they woke up. But Ville… Ville was already leaving him behind; disappearing through a heavy wooden door.
...Surely there’d be no harm in following him?
Closer... closer.... That's it, go on boys, GO.
“You are DISGUSTING.” A phrase unheard of from the Finnish rock god, famous for his shower-less weeks and his affinity for insects. All that escaped him, as he watched Bam dip a leg of chicken in a jar of mayonnaise. Oh gag. The boy ate with relish; then smacked his lips, and Ville eyed his own food, suddenly not hungry at all. He turned to the refrigerator, opened it, then threw the boy a cold beer. His own bottle popped open with a hiss, and he took a swig, grimacing, “Please wash that shit down, that’s the most revolting thing I’ve ever witnessed. I may have to throw you out.” The kitchen around them was vast, cold, well-lighted. The kind of house you just KNEW Ville hadn’t picked out himself, the definitive evidence being the basket of fruit in the center of the kitchen island. Ville probably didn’t even know it was CALLED a kitchen island.
Bam opened the bottle with his teeth and drank deeply, before throwing a foamy smile up at his friend. “Well you’re no fun. Who doesn’t eat chicken and mayo?” With a laugh, he finished off the meat, and threw the bone into the bin with it’s fellows; the carcasses of several other such birds, all a memory now. “You Finnish people… You’re so…”
“Not American?” Ville rolled his eyes and changed the subject, eager to leave the memory of this meal far behind. “C’mon, man, y’won’t ask, but I know you wanna see the studio.” Bam’s eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas, and Ville laughed at him, good-naturedly, “I thought so. Now throw away that fucking mayonnaise; it’s making me sick to look at.” It was Bam’s turn to laugh at him, but he still scrambled to catch up with Ville’s long strides.
“You’re really gonna let me into your studio?? Can I touch your guitars? Can I--- Mmph!” He ran headlong into Ville, who had stopped and turned in an instant. With indescribable grace, Ville dipped and tilted his head, and their lips met for a short moment, with what felt like a mild electrical shock. Dead silence followed this, and Ville smiled like the an angel.
“You can touch anything you want, pretty boy…” The tips of his hair brushed Bam’s face as he turned on the heel of his hellishly-expensive boot and continued towards the studio. Over his shoulder, he called, “Just don’t break anything, and DON’T move any of my ashtrays. I can find those things in the dark.”
Wait. Wait, shit. Bam’s brain tried desperately to catch up with the situation. There was a kiss. He knew that much. Ville, yes, Ville Valo had stepped forward and he had… well, HE hadn’t really stepped forward, it had actually been kind of his own fault… but… it wasn’t a mutual thing! No way! Ville had been the one to tilt his head-but… but…. uh… wait. Did he still get to go in the studio?
One thing was simple enough. His hero, his rock god, had kissed him. And now he was acting like it wasn’t anything at all! His reaction to anyone else doing that… well… he… he’d probably hit ‘em in the face, and ask questions when they woke up. But Ville… Ville was already leaving him behind; disappearing through a heavy wooden door.
...Surely there’d be no harm in following him?
Closer... closer.... That's it, go on boys, GO.