Next Chappy (finally)
oi, it's finally written! the next chapter is finally fucking getting posted! arggggg...i hate school...take away from my Vam time! anyhoo, i hope ya'll like the new chappy! it took me forever to write, and i'm still not completely satisfied with it...ah well...*shrugs*...i gotta go before i get beat! ta!
Emily
MIDNIGHT TEARS
chapters 1-4 http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/1260675.html
CHAPTER 6
As I watched him run out of the room, I wanted so fucking badly to go run after him. I'd never seen him look so hurt or broken. It made me feel so empty inside that I had done that to him, to Bam, to my angel. I don't think it's possible for another human to feel any more worthless or disgusting than I do. Well, I take that back - at least one person should feel more worthless and disgusting than me. The man - if you can call him that - standing in the doorway to my hospital room.
I'd grown up with him. I'd grown into myself with him. From the very beginning of the band when we were still struggling with members and getting gigs to the height of our success when we were the hottest thing out of Scandinavia, he'd been my very best friend in the world. I confessed things to him that I would never dream of confessing to any others. Through girlfriends and boyfriends alike, through trials and tribulations, he'd always been there for me. Mige had been my anchor for the longest time, more than my family could ever be because they weren't in the band and were always absent from my life. I never thought anything could change us. Like brothers we were. But something had.
H'e pretended, oh how he could act, but I could see better than anyone how he'd changed ever since Bam had come into the picture. Of course he was civil and friendly with the American, but I picked up the smallest hints of truth whenever he spoke or acted around him, I could see it in his eyes how much he hated the skater. It was because he wasn't number one in my life any more, because he wasn't getting all of my attention, because he wasn't anything more than a friend to me. He hated Bam because I was falling in love with the skater more and more each day. Bam was the one that I went to to lay my heart bare. Bam was the one that I talked to the press about. Bam was the one that I wrote my love songs about. I'd still considered Mige to be my best friend, but the closer the American and I became, the stranger and more uncomfortable I became around his very presense.
And I remembered it clearly, as clear as natural crystal unspoiled by the hands of humans, the day that everything went to hell. The band had been finishing a tour in the states and, as per usual, was housed at Castle Bam. That fateful night, Bam had been throwing us a party with only us, the CKY crew, and a very few other select people. It had been a wild party, completely out of control as far as we were concerned. And by the early hour of one in the morning, everyone was utterly annihilated. Well, save for Bam and I. I'd only been sipping on beer the whole night as had the skater and we were only slightly drunk. I had been sitting on the floor in his room at one point, attempting to avoid being thrown into the pool by those drunken idiots, just relaxing and flipping through channels on the television. Bam had burst into the room, laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes, and had fallen down next to me. He'd wrapped his arm around my shoulders, resting his head on my own once he'd calmed down enough.
"Whatcha doin' in here, Willa?" He'd asked me calmly.
"Avoiding drowning to death."
He'd chuckled. I'd felt light hearted suddenly. "So you're in here all by your lonesome? You coulda just asked me to kick their asses for ya."
"I could have." I'd chuckled as well. "But that wouldn't be fair. They should be dead they're so drunk."
"You're too nice a person, Willa." He'd said and I could hear the fondness in his voice.
"Well, I suppose that's a good thing. There aren't very many nice people in the world any more, are there?"
"Aw, has someone been not nice to my Willa Walo?" He'd said playfully, nudging my side softly.
I don't know why I didn't say anything to that. I really don't. Bam had became serious all the sudden though.
"Seriously, dude, has there?"
I'd shrugged my shoulders. "Doesn't matter."
"I think it does. Tell me who it is." Bam had said firmly.
I'd turned my head to look at him. Our eyes having connected, time had seemed to stop. I'd felt his warm breathe on my nose and shivers had suddenly run down my spine.
I honestly don't know who had moved first, him or me, but that doesn't really matter. Our lips had met, soft and unsure at first, strong and passionate the more confident we became. I'll never forget how he tasted - like beer of course, but of something more...unique, something that was completely Bam. I'd felt his hand on my waist as I wrapped both of my arms around his neck, loving the feel of his silken chestnut tresses. I remember the way I felt his lips vibrate as he moaned softly and how he slipped his hand behind my back, gently guiding me horizontal. I'd been moaning as well. How could I not? I was in heaven. It was as if my dreams were coming true.
He'd slid my shirt off ever so slowly, hands tickling my sensative flesh as he did so. I'd reciprocated the action, admiring how his perfectly sculpted body rippled and moved as I touched it. He'd kissed me again, trailing his lips down my neck, over my heaving chest, licking his way around my navel and further down until he came upon the top of my pants which hung low on my hips. Bam had slid them off taking my boxers away with them. And then, he'd simply knelt there, examining my completely nude body, making me feel more and more vulnerable. I'd been laid bare before the man I loved, body, heart, and soul. Finally though, he'd slid between my legs, kissing my stomach and abdomen once again, fingers tickling my hips and thighs. His touch had felt like fire. And when he'd gone down on me, taking my throbbing cock completely in his mouth, I didn't how to think strait, how to breathe properly. I'd felt his lips sliding over me, smooth and soft, and I'd felt the intense pressure of suction, and I'd felt the breathe from his nose tickling the little curls at my base. I'd thought I was going to go inane. But soon enough, I'd cum harder than I ever have into his mouth.
I'd laid there, catching my rushed breathe as he slid upward and caught my mouth with his own again. Without a second thought, I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me with my arms. "Take me..." I'd whispered into his ear. And, although I'd been slightly scared, I'd wanted it more than anything.
He'd kissed me hard. I could tell he wanted this as well, perhaps as much I did. Sliding down for a moment, he'd lifted both of my legs until they were bent over his shoulders. Bam had stuck his fingers gently into my mouth and I'd lathered them up as best I could. I'd felt one finger enter me first, wiggling around and stretching my virgin tunnel until I was writhing for more. When he stuck in a second finger, scissoring within me and beginning to pump, I was beginning to lose coherent thought. All that I'd known was how different it'd felt, how outrageously wonderful and new it all was. I'd become empty suddenly. I'd whimpered slightly, and he'd bent his head forward, kissing me as much as he could without hurting my body which was bent in half. And then I'd felt it. It didn't hurt at first, but then as Bam had sunk further and further into me, slowly and gently, the pain did come. I'd closed my eyes tightly, clenched my teeth till the muscles in my jaw began to hurt, squeezed my hands around his shoulders until I had been sure I'd made bruises. He'd stopped then, fingers carressing my sides in a soothing manner, calming sounds escaping his lips. It was only when I'd felt him kiss me once more, only when I returned the kiss completely willing, that he began to make any movement. Slow. That's the word that describes this whole thing. Slow, and tender, and passionate, and more than I'd ever expected or dreamed of. The pain exploded into a million sparkling fireworks abruptly when he'd thrust just right, hitting my prostate. After that, all those gentle words that I just mentioned flew out the window. He'd pounded into me and how I'd loved it. I'd thrust my body upward, meeting every movement he'd made. A hard, wild rhythm was soon formed and, at what point I honestly don't remember, he'd begun pumping my hard cock in time with it as well.
When we'd cum, it was, as poetic as it sounds, together. He'd nearly collapsed onto of me, rolling over just as his body fell so as not to hurt me. I'd unfolded my body, linking my legs with his, throwing my arm over his chest, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck. With our bodies still hot and sweaty, our breathe still coming in gasps, my stomach still covered with juices, everything in the universe had seemed to be completely at peace and perfection. Bam had turned to me then, his bright blue eyes shining with a light I'd never seen before. It had been utterly beautiful, HE had been utterly beatiful. Some how or other, we'd gotten off the floor and onto his bed, snuggled beneath the covers. I'd fallen into the deepest and most peaceful of sleeps for one reason alone: before he'd fallen asleep, Bam had so softly whispered to me that he loved me.
When I'd awaken in the morning, it had been with a smile on my face and faeries in my heart. I'd gotten up simply to go to the bathroom. It had been six in the morning, far too early for anyone in this house to be awake much less considering how drunk they had been the previous night, so to say I'd been scared shitless when Mige had suddenly appeared when I'd opened up the bathroom door to leave was an understatement. I'd nearly had a heart attack. But then he'd shoved me backwards back into the bathroom, coming in with me. He'd told me to pack all my stuff immediately and not to make a sound, not to wake up Bam. I'd been confused, but when he'd started becoming physical, I'd become more scared and angry than anything. I'd tried to fight him off, I truly had, I'd even gotten a good one or two solid punches in, but he is far bigger than I am and he'd obviously been more awake. We'd left Castle Bam in almost fifteen minutes, lightening fast considering. I'd only done as I was told for one reason: he'd threatened to kill Bam.
And that was why I had hurt Bam, because the man that I had once loved as a brother, the man that I now hated more than anyone or thing in the world, was standing before me, anger and hatred seeping off of his very body. He was like a mirror image of myself, only within me was hurt and sorrow far deeper than anything my songs could convey. When he began to walk toward me, slow and calculating, I tried my damndest not to simply leap off the bed and strangle him with my bare hands. I truly wanted to murder him. I wanted to see him bleed. I wanted to see him cry out in pain and feel the smallest bit of the agony that he directly caused in myself and Bam. I wanted to see him with white skin and bulging eyes, tongue hanging out. But I didn't move. I maintained my control...barely.
"So..." He sounded like a snake, the fucking devil. "I see you've finally learned to make the right choices."
I didn't say anything. I wanted to rip his teeth out of his mouth.
Mige sat in the chair next to my bed, relaxing as if he were in a completely normal situation. "You're fuckbuddy pulled some pretty ballsey stunts back there, making it backstage, confronting you in the bathroom, getting in the ambulance and all. I would ask if this were planned, but I think my answer just ran out the door."
Still, I said nothing, though images of him with a bullet hole in his head kept playing through my mind.
"Maybe I should punish him, just a little bit, just to give you a taste of how serious I am. And I am completely serious, Ville." The sound of my name coming from his lips made me want to gag. But the threat of him hurting Bam kept me silent, kept me focused. "There are plenty of things that I could do to him that would not result in death, I promise you."
"Don't touch him." I finally spat out.
"Oh, and why not?" There was a little smirk on his face. I wanted to carve it off.
"He knows nothing of this. He didn't know what he was doing. He doesn't deserve your cruelty."
"And I suppose you do..."
"I did nothing." I nearly growled.
"Are you sure you didn't pass out deliberately?" His tone was still smug, but his dark eyes were completely serious.
"Why the fuck would I do that? Do you think I like being in here? Do you think I like giving the goddamned press a field day?" I was now frustrated as well as angry. He was really pushing me mentally. He'd known me forever and knew which buttons to push.
The smirk on his face grew slightly wider. "Anything for your lover, I suppose..." The threatening gleam in his eyes became faintly sharper.
I didn't say anything, and neither did he for the longest time. The air was almost solid it was so thick with tension and the heat generated by our two seering stares could start fires. I didn't want to start anything. We were in a hospital, and the news our fight would create would be like a drug for the tabloids. The longer he stared at me though, unblinking and cold as ice, the more I wanted to kill him.
It made me sad, deep down inside beyond the fury and hurt, to think I didn't even know this mad man before me any more.
"I'm leaving in the morning for an interview in Paris." Mige finally spoke up again. "Linde has your cell phone." His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized me. I didn't move under his gaze though. "Everyone will be watching you, Ville. If you try to make contact with him in anyway, I'll know and, I swear to God, I will act on my threat. Do you understand?"
"I understand that you're out of your fucking mind." I spat out before I realized I had.
Before I knew what was happening, my mind still groggy from unconsciousness and drugs, I felt the entire left side of my face burst into flames. Mige stood over me, hand raised for a second punch as I gingerly held my face in my hands.
"You watch your fucking mouth and do what you're told, whore." He lowered his hand slowly, leaning down until he was mere inches from me. "Remember what I said, Ville. I might not be here, but I'm still here..."
With that, he walked out of the room. And as he did so, I felt a pressure lift from my soul that was almost physical. The pain inside was too much, too much...and my face hurt so fucking bad. I felt the warmth of tears begin sliding down my cheek. And then, in the midst of my misery, I felt it: the kick of the baby. It was so strange, so foreign, as if there was an alien inside my body. But no, it wasn't an alien, it was Bam's child. I turned on my side, burying the good side of my face into the stiff, itchy hospital pillow, curling up as much as I could. I wept as I hadn't done in months.
Why was everything so fucked up? What had I done to God, to the universe, to whatever the hell was out there to deserve this?
I was released from the hospital the next day on orders not to perform for at least a week. It was like a subtle sign from above. I was getting a legitimate reprieve from my band. I didn't have to see their disgusting faces for seven days, doctor's orders. And, though I should have been completely extatic, I wasn't. After what I'd done to Bam, after the further threat of harm to him from Mige, there was no way that I could feel anything close to happiness. The world was grey, polluted, and full of hate. Nothing was good any more. Nothing was pure. Everything had taint, me most of all.
I went through the next few days in a daze. I did as I was told, staying as far away from my band mates as possible. I did as I should, eating properly, staying away from beer, liquor, and smoke. I would walk the streets to waste time, sit in parks and write lyrics, sit at coffee shoppes and watch the world pass by, lie in bed and stare out my window. It was times like that, when I sat alone in my room and cooped up with my pain and thoughts, that I very much wanted to revert back to drinking and smoking. My lungs, my body, my mind, yearned for the release of those altering drugs. I had been sober for six months on both accounts, but for having done them since the age of thirteen, the addiction was still very much there. I needed them so much. I hurt so fucking badly inside and out.
When I heard the telephone ring in my room on my fourth night out of the hospital, I nearly jumped ten feet in the air. Nobody had called my room, ever. Not my band mates, note roadies, not execs, nobody. I was tempted to simply let the phone ring, positive that it was probably a band member, but the fact that they were calling at three in the morning pulled me to the phone. I picked it up, unsure of what was to come next.
"Hello?"
"Ville! You need to get over here right now - "
"Wait, Ryan, slow down a minute. What's wrong?" I said, my heart beginning to race at the urgency in his voice.
"It's Bam...he's...he's..." There was frantic breathing and little sounds of frustration coming through the phone. I was really worried now.
"He's what, Ryan." I said firmly.
"He's trying to kill himself, Valo!" His tone was furious, accusing. "And we can't do anything about it! You started this bullshit, now get over here and fix it, goddamnit!"
I felt my throat constrict until I could hardly breathe, I felt a weight hit my chest like a bag of bricks, I felt my entire world collapsing around me. Bam was trying to kill himself. Trying to kill himself!! NO!
"Wh-where?!" I sputtered out, mouth hardly able to make words.
"The Rivoli, room 612, now hurry your ass up, Valo!"
I dropped the phone, running out of my room faster than my mind could comprehend. I flew down the stairwell, my body and mind not having the patience to ride out the elevator. I jumped into a cab, shouting at the cabby at first simply because he couldn't understand my heavilly accented desperate voice. I tried to breathe properly. I closed my eyes, I gripped the shitty seats until my fingernails dug through the material, I rocked myself back and forth slightl. All that seemed to do was waste time. I was no less worried or dire when we screeched to a hault in front of the lit up, fancy hotel. I threw money at the driver, far more than what was needed, and sprinted out of the cab and through double glass doors. I could feel the weez of my asthma at the core of my chest, in the back of my throat, and I knew, although it killed me inside, if I didn't want to die tonight, I would have to take the elevator up six stories. And when the doors slid open, my body regenerated just enough, I took off in a frantic search for 612.
It wasn't that hard to find. I could hear people shouting direly and ran strait toward those voices, knowing full well that that was where I needed to be. Outside the hotel room, Raab and Rake stood, both pacing and shaking and completely terrified. As I walked passed them, the two Americans gave me the darkest looks I'd ever seen either of them ever make. I never thought it was possible for the two to be so furious. But I was not the problem, at the moment at least, and they did nothing as I brushed passed them and into the hotel room.
DiCo was standing near the window of the room, eyes wide as he stood stock still in front of the windows to the room. He was blocking a source of death. Dunn was kneeling at the foot of the bed, attempting to coax the person in question out of doing the unspeakable. And then, I finally laid eyes on him.
Bam was sitting indian style at the top of the bed, body hunched over as he quaked and sobbed very loudly. He was dripping with water or sweat, his entire body completely soaked. He was holding a knife in his shaking hand, bright with blood. Both his hands were covered with it. It was smeared on his face. There was a gun in his lap.
I wanted to die more than I ever have wanted to in my life. What had I done to this poor soul, this poor innocent soul that I loved with my entire being? He was so broken, so crushed, so hopeless. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of it. He was suffering for no reason at all, and I am going to go sit next to Lucifer, if there really is a hell, for this.
"Bam?" I spoke aloud, gently as I could.
I could see his body tense and stop quaking, hear his sobs suddenly cease and little struggling gasps of breath escape his mouth. When he looked up, sapphire eyes glimmering with flowing tears, I could feel my heart shatter into a million pieces that I would never be able to pick up again. The look of absolute agony and torment on his beautiful face was enough to bring that familiar burning behind my eyes back again.
"Bam..."
What was I supposed to say to him? What was I supposed to fucking say?! 'What are you doing'? Well, it's pretty fucking obvious isn't it?! 'Why are you doing this'? Because I fucking broke his heart, that's why!
I ventured a step closer. "Don't do this..."
It was all I could think to say.
He looked at me like I was completely mad. The fury in his eyes and features both scared me and hurt me.
"I'm fucking going to!!" He shouted angrilly, tears streaming down his face in fresh rivers of pain. "Why are you even here?! I don't wanna see your face!!"
"I'm here because I don't want you to die!" I answered him, my voice raised in desperate frustration.
"You don't want me to die? You don't want me to die?!" His face suddenly contorted into a disgusting mixture of agony and hillarity. The sound of his barked laugh made me cringe. "Why would you give a fuck?! You don't!! Why the fuck are you here?!"
"Because!" I shouted in return. "Because death is not the answer!"
"Oh no?" he tilted his head as if in thought. "I rather think it is. Life sure as fuck isn't the answer."
I paused, venturing just one more step closer.
"I know this is because of me, Bam." And it was. Every single thing was my fault. "You don't know how sorry I am...sweetheart, you have no idea how sorry I am that I hurt you..." I trailed off, my voice beginning to break.
"Don't fucking call me that..." He almost growled.
"...I'm sorry, Bam...just please, look at everyone! How many people are you going to hurt by doing this just because of some bullshit I caused!"
"I don't care! They'll get over it!" he shouted in frustration. "The whole fucking world will be better without me, including them!"
"That's not true, Bam. They love you. They care about you more than you know."
How I desperately wanted to say 'I'. 'I love you'. 'I care about you more than you know'. He stared at me, as if waiting for me to do just that. And when I didn't do so, he lowered his head again, hiding his face in his arms as hard sobs once again overcame him. I stepped forward ever so softly and slowly until I was standing just beside the bed a little in front of Ryan, taking those bold steps simply because Bam could not see me at the moment.
"Bam, will you please just give me the knife and gun? Please? We'll do whatever you want after that. I'll do whatever you want..." I spoke softly to him, attempting not to cause any more distress.
Once more, his weeping significantly lessened and he raised his head to look at me. I couldn't read his expression clearly. It was too many things at once; pain and fury of course, but so much more. It killed me that I couldn't read him. I used to be able to decipher his mood and expressions better than anyone.
"What? These?" He said motion to the gun in his lap with the knife in his hand.
I nodded, holding out my hands. And when he picked up the gun, hope and relief flooded through me for the briefest of moments. Until he pointed the gun at me. His arm was still dripping blood, the bright cuts lining his arm leaking freshly. I wanted to both weep and throw up at the same time. The reality of it all was hitting me harder than ever. But I didn't move. I hardly breathed. I had a gun pointed at my face by a severely emotionally unstable man. I could die at any second. And I completely deserved to.
"You don't like them?" He said, dark sarcasm filling his voice.
I shook my head, not wanting to say anything that might push him over the edge.
"I do. I like them alot. I fucking love them, if ya really wanna know." He took his eyes off me for just a moment, examining the still bloody knife in his hand. "Do you know why I love them?" He asked, looking at me once more.
I shook my head in response. I was so close, I could have reached out and easilly taken the gun out of his out stretched hand. I was tempted to do so more than ever. But I didn't. I'd die before I even felt the black metal of the weapon.
Bam mumbled something then and I struggled with attempting to understand him until I finally gave up. "I didn't hear what you said Bam. Will you - "
"I said, because they give the pain a way out!!" He was absolutely furious, mad with his overflowing emotions, and most likely drunk. I had no proof of the latter though. In his state of being, Bam's sobriety was completely indiscernable.
I felt my eyes widen and my jaw drop as he raised the knife to his stretched out arm, pressing the metal hard against his soft flesh. And when he jerked his hand down, ripping open his skin so violently, the blood spurted out much like the fake effects on horror movies. They weren't so fake any more. This was real, painfully real. This cut was so much deeper than the others were. And, although it must have hurt worse than imaginable, his expression did not change at all. I suppose nothing can hurt worse than a broken heart.
But I was frantic. I felt hot tears rolling down my cheeks and my body trembling uncontrolably.
"Bam, stop! Stop, please!!" I shouted, utterly dire.
"No!" I messilly ran the knife across his arm twice more. It was like a river of blood. "You see?!" He yelled, shaking his arm at me. "Look at it all! Pain!! Pain!! Pain!!" He continued to slash his arm. I was practically sobbing by this point. If he didn't stop, he really was going to die. "Pain everywhere!! I DON'T WANT IT ANYMORE!!"
He suddenly stopped cutting himself, his slashed up arm going limp though still maintaining the gun. He turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut as the sobs overcame him once again. And, although I was emotionally unstable myself and completely desperate, I didn't waste a second at all. I shot my hand out as fast as I could, gripping the gun and tearing it out of his hand. I feared I might have hurt him, pulling his severely wounded arm, but things were moving far too fast for me to think about that. After throwing then gun down, I practically lunged for the knife in his hand. But he was completely coherent now and extremely furious. Instead of pushing me off of him, Bam pulled me down to the bed violently. He rolled me over onto my back, trying his damnedest to get the knife to my neck. But I got a hold of both of his arms, my hand digging painfully into the blade he gripped. In frustration, he jumped atop my wildly thrashing body in an attempt to restrain me, sitting directly on my stomach with all his 215lbs. This, more than anything, scared the fucking hell of me. He was crushing the baby.
"Get off me!! Get off me!!" I screamed in desperation. "Bam, get off me!!"
"No! NO!!" Bam screamed in return, clutching onto me, hands and legs, because Dunn and DiCo were now frantically trying to restrain him.
"Bam, please, get off me!!" I screamed over and over.
"No! I will not!" He kept shouting back.
"Bam! Get the fuck off me!! I'M PREGNANT!!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.
Everything seemed to stop all at once. Everything was completely frozen. I looked Bam strait in the eye, heart beating faster than a machine gun.
"Bam, I'm pregnant..." I whispered, the tears still streaming down my cheeks. "...it's...it's yours..."
His brimming blue eyes were completely wide, all else wiped from his features save intense shock.
"Please...get off me, Bam..." He whispered, the direness in my voice as heavy as can be.
His entire body suddenly jumped as he realized where he was sitting. Rolling off me, he sat on the bed, eyes never breaking from mine. I sat up then, taking the knife he was still loosely clutching out of his hand and throwing it aside.
"You can't do this..." I took his hand in mine, and he didn't struggle. He was in too much shock. I placed his hand on my rounded belly. "You can't do this because we have a child..."
To feel his hand on my stomach, to feel the silken flesh of his hand in mine, was just too much. It was something I had been dreaming about for months. And as I felt his fingers flex against my stomach, I bent my head, the tears flowing strongly out of my eyes. It was all too much at once. I couldn't handle it.
And then I felt it. Warm arms surround me, warm arms holding me securely, warm arms holding me like they hadn't done in what seemed like forever. I broke down, burying my head in Bam's chest and wrapping my arms around his torso, intent on never letting him go. I wept hard, and I felt his body shaking with sobs as well as he pulled me foward until we were lying down together. Only, when I started calm down, I felt that his arms were loose around me. For the briefest of moments, my incoherent mind thought that he had fallen asleep. But, with a snap of realization, I jumped up, shaking him frantically.
"Bam?! Bam!"
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oi, so fucking shitty...i know...*dodges thrown fruit*...oh, and i know i said it was going to be longer, but i SERIOUSLY promise the next one will be...i hope you all got your fixes! smut, angst, and drama all in one chapter! oi...
COMMENTS = SOUL FOOD
AUTHOR = STARVING COLLEGE STUDENT
VAMMERS = ANGELS
Emily
MIDNIGHT TEARS
chapters 1-4 http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/1260675.html
CHAPTER 6
As I watched him run out of the room, I wanted so fucking badly to go run after him. I'd never seen him look so hurt or broken. It made me feel so empty inside that I had done that to him, to Bam, to my angel. I don't think it's possible for another human to feel any more worthless or disgusting than I do. Well, I take that back - at least one person should feel more worthless and disgusting than me. The man - if you can call him that - standing in the doorway to my hospital room.
I'd grown up with him. I'd grown into myself with him. From the very beginning of the band when we were still struggling with members and getting gigs to the height of our success when we were the hottest thing out of Scandinavia, he'd been my very best friend in the world. I confessed things to him that I would never dream of confessing to any others. Through girlfriends and boyfriends alike, through trials and tribulations, he'd always been there for me. Mige had been my anchor for the longest time, more than my family could ever be because they weren't in the band and were always absent from my life. I never thought anything could change us. Like brothers we were. But something had.
H'e pretended, oh how he could act, but I could see better than anyone how he'd changed ever since Bam had come into the picture. Of course he was civil and friendly with the American, but I picked up the smallest hints of truth whenever he spoke or acted around him, I could see it in his eyes how much he hated the skater. It was because he wasn't number one in my life any more, because he wasn't getting all of my attention, because he wasn't anything more than a friend to me. He hated Bam because I was falling in love with the skater more and more each day. Bam was the one that I went to to lay my heart bare. Bam was the one that I talked to the press about. Bam was the one that I wrote my love songs about. I'd still considered Mige to be my best friend, but the closer the American and I became, the stranger and more uncomfortable I became around his very presense.
And I remembered it clearly, as clear as natural crystal unspoiled by the hands of humans, the day that everything went to hell. The band had been finishing a tour in the states and, as per usual, was housed at Castle Bam. That fateful night, Bam had been throwing us a party with only us, the CKY crew, and a very few other select people. It had been a wild party, completely out of control as far as we were concerned. And by the early hour of one in the morning, everyone was utterly annihilated. Well, save for Bam and I. I'd only been sipping on beer the whole night as had the skater and we were only slightly drunk. I had been sitting on the floor in his room at one point, attempting to avoid being thrown into the pool by those drunken idiots, just relaxing and flipping through channels on the television. Bam had burst into the room, laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes, and had fallen down next to me. He'd wrapped his arm around my shoulders, resting his head on my own once he'd calmed down enough.
"Whatcha doin' in here, Willa?" He'd asked me calmly.
"Avoiding drowning to death."
He'd chuckled. I'd felt light hearted suddenly. "So you're in here all by your lonesome? You coulda just asked me to kick their asses for ya."
"I could have." I'd chuckled as well. "But that wouldn't be fair. They should be dead they're so drunk."
"You're too nice a person, Willa." He'd said and I could hear the fondness in his voice.
"Well, I suppose that's a good thing. There aren't very many nice people in the world any more, are there?"
"Aw, has someone been not nice to my Willa Walo?" He'd said playfully, nudging my side softly.
I don't know why I didn't say anything to that. I really don't. Bam had became serious all the sudden though.
"Seriously, dude, has there?"
I'd shrugged my shoulders. "Doesn't matter."
"I think it does. Tell me who it is." Bam had said firmly.
I'd turned my head to look at him. Our eyes having connected, time had seemed to stop. I'd felt his warm breathe on my nose and shivers had suddenly run down my spine.
I honestly don't know who had moved first, him or me, but that doesn't really matter. Our lips had met, soft and unsure at first, strong and passionate the more confident we became. I'll never forget how he tasted - like beer of course, but of something more...unique, something that was completely Bam. I'd felt his hand on my waist as I wrapped both of my arms around his neck, loving the feel of his silken chestnut tresses. I remember the way I felt his lips vibrate as he moaned softly and how he slipped his hand behind my back, gently guiding me horizontal. I'd been moaning as well. How could I not? I was in heaven. It was as if my dreams were coming true.
He'd slid my shirt off ever so slowly, hands tickling my sensative flesh as he did so. I'd reciprocated the action, admiring how his perfectly sculpted body rippled and moved as I touched it. He'd kissed me again, trailing his lips down my neck, over my heaving chest, licking his way around my navel and further down until he came upon the top of my pants which hung low on my hips. Bam had slid them off taking my boxers away with them. And then, he'd simply knelt there, examining my completely nude body, making me feel more and more vulnerable. I'd been laid bare before the man I loved, body, heart, and soul. Finally though, he'd slid between my legs, kissing my stomach and abdomen once again, fingers tickling my hips and thighs. His touch had felt like fire. And when he'd gone down on me, taking my throbbing cock completely in his mouth, I didn't how to think strait, how to breathe properly. I'd felt his lips sliding over me, smooth and soft, and I'd felt the intense pressure of suction, and I'd felt the breathe from his nose tickling the little curls at my base. I'd thought I was going to go inane. But soon enough, I'd cum harder than I ever have into his mouth.
I'd laid there, catching my rushed breathe as he slid upward and caught my mouth with his own again. Without a second thought, I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me with my arms. "Take me..." I'd whispered into his ear. And, although I'd been slightly scared, I'd wanted it more than anything.
He'd kissed me hard. I could tell he wanted this as well, perhaps as much I did. Sliding down for a moment, he'd lifted both of my legs until they were bent over his shoulders. Bam had stuck his fingers gently into my mouth and I'd lathered them up as best I could. I'd felt one finger enter me first, wiggling around and stretching my virgin tunnel until I was writhing for more. When he stuck in a second finger, scissoring within me and beginning to pump, I was beginning to lose coherent thought. All that I'd known was how different it'd felt, how outrageously wonderful and new it all was. I'd become empty suddenly. I'd whimpered slightly, and he'd bent his head forward, kissing me as much as he could without hurting my body which was bent in half. And then I'd felt it. It didn't hurt at first, but then as Bam had sunk further and further into me, slowly and gently, the pain did come. I'd closed my eyes tightly, clenched my teeth till the muscles in my jaw began to hurt, squeezed my hands around his shoulders until I had been sure I'd made bruises. He'd stopped then, fingers carressing my sides in a soothing manner, calming sounds escaping his lips. It was only when I'd felt him kiss me once more, only when I returned the kiss completely willing, that he began to make any movement. Slow. That's the word that describes this whole thing. Slow, and tender, and passionate, and more than I'd ever expected or dreamed of. The pain exploded into a million sparkling fireworks abruptly when he'd thrust just right, hitting my prostate. After that, all those gentle words that I just mentioned flew out the window. He'd pounded into me and how I'd loved it. I'd thrust my body upward, meeting every movement he'd made. A hard, wild rhythm was soon formed and, at what point I honestly don't remember, he'd begun pumping my hard cock in time with it as well.
When we'd cum, it was, as poetic as it sounds, together. He'd nearly collapsed onto of me, rolling over just as his body fell so as not to hurt me. I'd unfolded my body, linking my legs with his, throwing my arm over his chest, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck. With our bodies still hot and sweaty, our breathe still coming in gasps, my stomach still covered with juices, everything in the universe had seemed to be completely at peace and perfection. Bam had turned to me then, his bright blue eyes shining with a light I'd never seen before. It had been utterly beautiful, HE had been utterly beatiful. Some how or other, we'd gotten off the floor and onto his bed, snuggled beneath the covers. I'd fallen into the deepest and most peaceful of sleeps for one reason alone: before he'd fallen asleep, Bam had so softly whispered to me that he loved me.
When I'd awaken in the morning, it had been with a smile on my face and faeries in my heart. I'd gotten up simply to go to the bathroom. It had been six in the morning, far too early for anyone in this house to be awake much less considering how drunk they had been the previous night, so to say I'd been scared shitless when Mige had suddenly appeared when I'd opened up the bathroom door to leave was an understatement. I'd nearly had a heart attack. But then he'd shoved me backwards back into the bathroom, coming in with me. He'd told me to pack all my stuff immediately and not to make a sound, not to wake up Bam. I'd been confused, but when he'd started becoming physical, I'd become more scared and angry than anything. I'd tried to fight him off, I truly had, I'd even gotten a good one or two solid punches in, but he is far bigger than I am and he'd obviously been more awake. We'd left Castle Bam in almost fifteen minutes, lightening fast considering. I'd only done as I was told for one reason: he'd threatened to kill Bam.
And that was why I had hurt Bam, because the man that I had once loved as a brother, the man that I now hated more than anyone or thing in the world, was standing before me, anger and hatred seeping off of his very body. He was like a mirror image of myself, only within me was hurt and sorrow far deeper than anything my songs could convey. When he began to walk toward me, slow and calculating, I tried my damndest not to simply leap off the bed and strangle him with my bare hands. I truly wanted to murder him. I wanted to see him bleed. I wanted to see him cry out in pain and feel the smallest bit of the agony that he directly caused in myself and Bam. I wanted to see him with white skin and bulging eyes, tongue hanging out. But I didn't move. I maintained my control...barely.
"So..." He sounded like a snake, the fucking devil. "I see you've finally learned to make the right choices."
I didn't say anything. I wanted to rip his teeth out of his mouth.
Mige sat in the chair next to my bed, relaxing as if he were in a completely normal situation. "You're fuckbuddy pulled some pretty ballsey stunts back there, making it backstage, confronting you in the bathroom, getting in the ambulance and all. I would ask if this were planned, but I think my answer just ran out the door."
Still, I said nothing, though images of him with a bullet hole in his head kept playing through my mind.
"Maybe I should punish him, just a little bit, just to give you a taste of how serious I am. And I am completely serious, Ville." The sound of my name coming from his lips made me want to gag. But the threat of him hurting Bam kept me silent, kept me focused. "There are plenty of things that I could do to him that would not result in death, I promise you."
"Don't touch him." I finally spat out.
"Oh, and why not?" There was a little smirk on his face. I wanted to carve it off.
"He knows nothing of this. He didn't know what he was doing. He doesn't deserve your cruelty."
"And I suppose you do..."
"I did nothing." I nearly growled.
"Are you sure you didn't pass out deliberately?" His tone was still smug, but his dark eyes were completely serious.
"Why the fuck would I do that? Do you think I like being in here? Do you think I like giving the goddamned press a field day?" I was now frustrated as well as angry. He was really pushing me mentally. He'd known me forever and knew which buttons to push.
The smirk on his face grew slightly wider. "Anything for your lover, I suppose..." The threatening gleam in his eyes became faintly sharper.
I didn't say anything, and neither did he for the longest time. The air was almost solid it was so thick with tension and the heat generated by our two seering stares could start fires. I didn't want to start anything. We were in a hospital, and the news our fight would create would be like a drug for the tabloids. The longer he stared at me though, unblinking and cold as ice, the more I wanted to kill him.
It made me sad, deep down inside beyond the fury and hurt, to think I didn't even know this mad man before me any more.
"I'm leaving in the morning for an interview in Paris." Mige finally spoke up again. "Linde has your cell phone." His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized me. I didn't move under his gaze though. "Everyone will be watching you, Ville. If you try to make contact with him in anyway, I'll know and, I swear to God, I will act on my threat. Do you understand?"
"I understand that you're out of your fucking mind." I spat out before I realized I had.
Before I knew what was happening, my mind still groggy from unconsciousness and drugs, I felt the entire left side of my face burst into flames. Mige stood over me, hand raised for a second punch as I gingerly held my face in my hands.
"You watch your fucking mouth and do what you're told, whore." He lowered his hand slowly, leaning down until he was mere inches from me. "Remember what I said, Ville. I might not be here, but I'm still here..."
With that, he walked out of the room. And as he did so, I felt a pressure lift from my soul that was almost physical. The pain inside was too much, too much...and my face hurt so fucking bad. I felt the warmth of tears begin sliding down my cheek. And then, in the midst of my misery, I felt it: the kick of the baby. It was so strange, so foreign, as if there was an alien inside my body. But no, it wasn't an alien, it was Bam's child. I turned on my side, burying the good side of my face into the stiff, itchy hospital pillow, curling up as much as I could. I wept as I hadn't done in months.
Why was everything so fucked up? What had I done to God, to the universe, to whatever the hell was out there to deserve this?
I was released from the hospital the next day on orders not to perform for at least a week. It was like a subtle sign from above. I was getting a legitimate reprieve from my band. I didn't have to see their disgusting faces for seven days, doctor's orders. And, though I should have been completely extatic, I wasn't. After what I'd done to Bam, after the further threat of harm to him from Mige, there was no way that I could feel anything close to happiness. The world was grey, polluted, and full of hate. Nothing was good any more. Nothing was pure. Everything had taint, me most of all.
I went through the next few days in a daze. I did as I was told, staying as far away from my band mates as possible. I did as I should, eating properly, staying away from beer, liquor, and smoke. I would walk the streets to waste time, sit in parks and write lyrics, sit at coffee shoppes and watch the world pass by, lie in bed and stare out my window. It was times like that, when I sat alone in my room and cooped up with my pain and thoughts, that I very much wanted to revert back to drinking and smoking. My lungs, my body, my mind, yearned for the release of those altering drugs. I had been sober for six months on both accounts, but for having done them since the age of thirteen, the addiction was still very much there. I needed them so much. I hurt so fucking badly inside and out.
When I heard the telephone ring in my room on my fourth night out of the hospital, I nearly jumped ten feet in the air. Nobody had called my room, ever. Not my band mates, note roadies, not execs, nobody. I was tempted to simply let the phone ring, positive that it was probably a band member, but the fact that they were calling at three in the morning pulled me to the phone. I picked it up, unsure of what was to come next.
"Hello?"
"Ville! You need to get over here right now - "
"Wait, Ryan, slow down a minute. What's wrong?" I said, my heart beginning to race at the urgency in his voice.
"It's Bam...he's...he's..." There was frantic breathing and little sounds of frustration coming through the phone. I was really worried now.
"He's what, Ryan." I said firmly.
"He's trying to kill himself, Valo!" His tone was furious, accusing. "And we can't do anything about it! You started this bullshit, now get over here and fix it, goddamnit!"
I felt my throat constrict until I could hardly breathe, I felt a weight hit my chest like a bag of bricks, I felt my entire world collapsing around me. Bam was trying to kill himself. Trying to kill himself!! NO!
"Wh-where?!" I sputtered out, mouth hardly able to make words.
"The Rivoli, room 612, now hurry your ass up, Valo!"
I dropped the phone, running out of my room faster than my mind could comprehend. I flew down the stairwell, my body and mind not having the patience to ride out the elevator. I jumped into a cab, shouting at the cabby at first simply because he couldn't understand my heavilly accented desperate voice. I tried to breathe properly. I closed my eyes, I gripped the shitty seats until my fingernails dug through the material, I rocked myself back and forth slightl. All that seemed to do was waste time. I was no less worried or dire when we screeched to a hault in front of the lit up, fancy hotel. I threw money at the driver, far more than what was needed, and sprinted out of the cab and through double glass doors. I could feel the weez of my asthma at the core of my chest, in the back of my throat, and I knew, although it killed me inside, if I didn't want to die tonight, I would have to take the elevator up six stories. And when the doors slid open, my body regenerated just enough, I took off in a frantic search for 612.
It wasn't that hard to find. I could hear people shouting direly and ran strait toward those voices, knowing full well that that was where I needed to be. Outside the hotel room, Raab and Rake stood, both pacing and shaking and completely terrified. As I walked passed them, the two Americans gave me the darkest looks I'd ever seen either of them ever make. I never thought it was possible for the two to be so furious. But I was not the problem, at the moment at least, and they did nothing as I brushed passed them and into the hotel room.
DiCo was standing near the window of the room, eyes wide as he stood stock still in front of the windows to the room. He was blocking a source of death. Dunn was kneeling at the foot of the bed, attempting to coax the person in question out of doing the unspeakable. And then, I finally laid eyes on him.
Bam was sitting indian style at the top of the bed, body hunched over as he quaked and sobbed very loudly. He was dripping with water or sweat, his entire body completely soaked. He was holding a knife in his shaking hand, bright with blood. Both his hands were covered with it. It was smeared on his face. There was a gun in his lap.
I wanted to die more than I ever have wanted to in my life. What had I done to this poor soul, this poor innocent soul that I loved with my entire being? He was so broken, so crushed, so hopeless. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of it. He was suffering for no reason at all, and I am going to go sit next to Lucifer, if there really is a hell, for this.
"Bam?" I spoke aloud, gently as I could.
I could see his body tense and stop quaking, hear his sobs suddenly cease and little struggling gasps of breath escape his mouth. When he looked up, sapphire eyes glimmering with flowing tears, I could feel my heart shatter into a million pieces that I would never be able to pick up again. The look of absolute agony and torment on his beautiful face was enough to bring that familiar burning behind my eyes back again.
"Bam..."
What was I supposed to say to him? What was I supposed to fucking say?! 'What are you doing'? Well, it's pretty fucking obvious isn't it?! 'Why are you doing this'? Because I fucking broke his heart, that's why!
I ventured a step closer. "Don't do this..."
It was all I could think to say.
He looked at me like I was completely mad. The fury in his eyes and features both scared me and hurt me.
"I'm fucking going to!!" He shouted angrilly, tears streaming down his face in fresh rivers of pain. "Why are you even here?! I don't wanna see your face!!"
"I'm here because I don't want you to die!" I answered him, my voice raised in desperate frustration.
"You don't want me to die? You don't want me to die?!" His face suddenly contorted into a disgusting mixture of agony and hillarity. The sound of his barked laugh made me cringe. "Why would you give a fuck?! You don't!! Why the fuck are you here?!"
"Because!" I shouted in return. "Because death is not the answer!"
"Oh no?" he tilted his head as if in thought. "I rather think it is. Life sure as fuck isn't the answer."
I paused, venturing just one more step closer.
"I know this is because of me, Bam." And it was. Every single thing was my fault. "You don't know how sorry I am...sweetheart, you have no idea how sorry I am that I hurt you..." I trailed off, my voice beginning to break.
"Don't fucking call me that..." He almost growled.
"...I'm sorry, Bam...just please, look at everyone! How many people are you going to hurt by doing this just because of some bullshit I caused!"
"I don't care! They'll get over it!" he shouted in frustration. "The whole fucking world will be better without me, including them!"
"That's not true, Bam. They love you. They care about you more than you know."
How I desperately wanted to say 'I'. 'I love you'. 'I care about you more than you know'. He stared at me, as if waiting for me to do just that. And when I didn't do so, he lowered his head again, hiding his face in his arms as hard sobs once again overcame him. I stepped forward ever so softly and slowly until I was standing just beside the bed a little in front of Ryan, taking those bold steps simply because Bam could not see me at the moment.
"Bam, will you please just give me the knife and gun? Please? We'll do whatever you want after that. I'll do whatever you want..." I spoke softly to him, attempting not to cause any more distress.
Once more, his weeping significantly lessened and he raised his head to look at me. I couldn't read his expression clearly. It was too many things at once; pain and fury of course, but so much more. It killed me that I couldn't read him. I used to be able to decipher his mood and expressions better than anyone.
"What? These?" He said motion to the gun in his lap with the knife in his hand.
I nodded, holding out my hands. And when he picked up the gun, hope and relief flooded through me for the briefest of moments. Until he pointed the gun at me. His arm was still dripping blood, the bright cuts lining his arm leaking freshly. I wanted to both weep and throw up at the same time. The reality of it all was hitting me harder than ever. But I didn't move. I hardly breathed. I had a gun pointed at my face by a severely emotionally unstable man. I could die at any second. And I completely deserved to.
"You don't like them?" He said, dark sarcasm filling his voice.
I shook my head, not wanting to say anything that might push him over the edge.
"I do. I like them alot. I fucking love them, if ya really wanna know." He took his eyes off me for just a moment, examining the still bloody knife in his hand. "Do you know why I love them?" He asked, looking at me once more.
I shook my head in response. I was so close, I could have reached out and easilly taken the gun out of his out stretched hand. I was tempted to do so more than ever. But I didn't. I'd die before I even felt the black metal of the weapon.
Bam mumbled something then and I struggled with attempting to understand him until I finally gave up. "I didn't hear what you said Bam. Will you - "
"I said, because they give the pain a way out!!" He was absolutely furious, mad with his overflowing emotions, and most likely drunk. I had no proof of the latter though. In his state of being, Bam's sobriety was completely indiscernable.
I felt my eyes widen and my jaw drop as he raised the knife to his stretched out arm, pressing the metal hard against his soft flesh. And when he jerked his hand down, ripping open his skin so violently, the blood spurted out much like the fake effects on horror movies. They weren't so fake any more. This was real, painfully real. This cut was so much deeper than the others were. And, although it must have hurt worse than imaginable, his expression did not change at all. I suppose nothing can hurt worse than a broken heart.
But I was frantic. I felt hot tears rolling down my cheeks and my body trembling uncontrolably.
"Bam, stop! Stop, please!!" I shouted, utterly dire.
"No!" I messilly ran the knife across his arm twice more. It was like a river of blood. "You see?!" He yelled, shaking his arm at me. "Look at it all! Pain!! Pain!! Pain!!" He continued to slash his arm. I was practically sobbing by this point. If he didn't stop, he really was going to die. "Pain everywhere!! I DON'T WANT IT ANYMORE!!"
He suddenly stopped cutting himself, his slashed up arm going limp though still maintaining the gun. He turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut as the sobs overcame him once again. And, although I was emotionally unstable myself and completely desperate, I didn't waste a second at all. I shot my hand out as fast as I could, gripping the gun and tearing it out of his hand. I feared I might have hurt him, pulling his severely wounded arm, but things were moving far too fast for me to think about that. After throwing then gun down, I practically lunged for the knife in his hand. But he was completely coherent now and extremely furious. Instead of pushing me off of him, Bam pulled me down to the bed violently. He rolled me over onto my back, trying his damnedest to get the knife to my neck. But I got a hold of both of his arms, my hand digging painfully into the blade he gripped. In frustration, he jumped atop my wildly thrashing body in an attempt to restrain me, sitting directly on my stomach with all his 215lbs. This, more than anything, scared the fucking hell of me. He was crushing the baby.
"Get off me!! Get off me!!" I screamed in desperation. "Bam, get off me!!"
"No! NO!!" Bam screamed in return, clutching onto me, hands and legs, because Dunn and DiCo were now frantically trying to restrain him.
"Bam, please, get off me!!" I screamed over and over.
"No! I will not!" He kept shouting back.
"Bam! Get the fuck off me!! I'M PREGNANT!!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.
Everything seemed to stop all at once. Everything was completely frozen. I looked Bam strait in the eye, heart beating faster than a machine gun.
"Bam, I'm pregnant..." I whispered, the tears still streaming down my cheeks. "...it's...it's yours..."
His brimming blue eyes were completely wide, all else wiped from his features save intense shock.
"Please...get off me, Bam..." He whispered, the direness in my voice as heavy as can be.
His entire body suddenly jumped as he realized where he was sitting. Rolling off me, he sat on the bed, eyes never breaking from mine. I sat up then, taking the knife he was still loosely clutching out of his hand and throwing it aside.
"You can't do this..." I took his hand in mine, and he didn't struggle. He was in too much shock. I placed his hand on my rounded belly. "You can't do this because we have a child..."
To feel his hand on my stomach, to feel the silken flesh of his hand in mine, was just too much. It was something I had been dreaming about for months. And as I felt his fingers flex against my stomach, I bent my head, the tears flowing strongly out of my eyes. It was all too much at once. I couldn't handle it.
And then I felt it. Warm arms surround me, warm arms holding me securely, warm arms holding me like they hadn't done in what seemed like forever. I broke down, burying my head in Bam's chest and wrapping my arms around his torso, intent on never letting him go. I wept hard, and I felt his body shaking with sobs as well as he pulled me foward until we were lying down together. Only, when I started calm down, I felt that his arms were loose around me. For the briefest of moments, my incoherent mind thought that he had fallen asleep. But, with a snap of realization, I jumped up, shaking him frantically.
"Bam?! Bam!"
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oi, so fucking shitty...i know...*dodges thrown fruit*...oh, and i know i said it was going to be longer, but i SERIOUSLY promise the next one will be...i hope you all got your fixes! smut, angst, and drama all in one chapter! oi...
COMMENTS = SOUL FOOD
AUTHOR = STARVING COLLEGE STUDENT
VAMMERS = ANGELS