New Fic - Wherever I May Roam

[rock_chicka]

Howdie... i've been hanging around and i do believe i've posted one or two things before... but this time i come with a nice chaptered fic and possibly a sequal depending on weather or not people actually read it. Hope everyone enjoys it... please tell me if it sux!!!

Title: Wherever I May Roam
Rating: If i say a M15+ then i am covered for everything i think
Chapter: One
Disclaimer: Don't know the boys, i would desperatly love too, but i don't. I do however, own Courtney!

This is for my potatoe, falloutgurl666 simply because it was her idea, and i just wrote the thing!!!

Comment's are LOVE

I’ve always hated admitting that I was wrong.

“You want this, you know that now.” He had whispered gently as he kissed me again.

Well, I think I always did.

~*~

I was confused.

“It’s not right.” I had resorted to talking to myself as I threw random necessities into my bag. “He’s not the sort of person I would pick for a cutter, he’s too strong. Then again, he’s never been a very good liar.” Picking up the bag, I chucked it through the open door and followed it out. I picked it up, and the few others like it that lay in the hall and carried them to the car.

“Whatever it is that is wrong with you Bam Bam, I’m coming to find out what it is and help fix it!!”

--

I sat in a crumpled heap on the bathroom floor, knife in hand, and only a few small spots of blood on my ankle to show for my efforts. The pain was starting to get unbearable, but it was the only way I could really let it all out. I preferred to cut here then say, my arms, because my ankles are way less suspicious and can be passed off as skateboarding accidents. Recently thought, even Ape had started to get a little suspicious about the amount of scars and scrapes on my arms and legs. I’m lucky she’s so gullible because one hint that it’s the result of a stupid prank or skateboarding accident and she stops stressing. Leaning down, I started to hack away at my ankle again, but to no avail. It’s so stupid. After the months I’ve spent shredding my ankle open I’ve managed to blunt my knife. Seeing as I never use a knife, I can’t really go and get it sharpened, especially as it’s rusted with dried blood. Even a blunt knife doesn’t stop me from cutting my ankle but that doesn’t really surprise me. Nothing seems to be able to stop me, not even the fact that I don’t really want to be doing it. And still I cut. I think it’s because for those tiny moments of pain, I’m taken away from my totally fucked up life and that feels so good. I do it for the split seconds that I feel alright, those moments that make me feel like a real person.

I can hear a car in the driveway, which is nothing unusual for me. Looking back at my bleeding ankle, I start at it again, striving for the small moment of peace I’ll get from making myself bleed. It’s the knocking at my door that’s strange. No-one from around here ever knocks. Most people just waltz on in, which suits me fine. There it is again, the urgent knocking from before.

“Shit!” I cried though possibly a little too loud. Hurriedly, I stuffed my knife into the centre of a roll of toilet paper and hid it right at the back of my bathroom cupboard. Thankfully, the blunt knife hadn’t made my ankle bleed too much and so it wasn’t very hard to stop the small trickles of blood that still ran. Pulling my sock high up over my ankle bone, I bounced down the stairs and pulled open the door. Out of the billions of people in the world, possibly the last person I expected to see on the doorstep as I opened the door was one Ville Valo, armed with enough luggage to last a month.

“This has got to stop.” He said with a smile as he walked through my door with all his stuff.

“Yes,” I agreed. “You turning up on my doorstep completely unannounced has got to stop!”

“That’s not what I meant” he said as he turned around and stared at with me with his vibrant green eyes. “Though I am sorry about that” he muttered, still staring sadly into my eyes. It was the kind of stare where you could feel the other person just reading you like a book. Feeling violated, I glanced away and instead, I stood staring at my feet and the faint hint of blood that was starting to show on my sock.

“This has got to stop.” He repeated. I could feel his eyes on me, watching me, waiting for my response.

“What does?” I sounded pathetic as I asked him but I honestly had no idea what he was on about. It was virtually impossible that he knew about Mr Ankle and Mrs Knife, so I just looked at him in utter confusion.

“Denial is the first step in the wrong direction!” he announced. “Repeat after me.”

“Repeat after me” I mimicked, parrot style.

“Oh shut up Bam.”

“Oh shut up Bam.” I repeated, using probably the oldest and lamest trick in the book in a vain attempt to unsettle Ville. He was just so determined and all my attempts had backfired.

“I Brandon Margera,” he continued, ignoring my antics. I just had to crack him.

“But you’re not Brandon Margera. That’s me. You can’t be me. You’d have to be related to Vito and you DON’T want…”

“I Brandon Margera” he continued, cutting me off mid sentence. I gave in and played along.

“I Brandon Margera”

“Admit that I” Where the fuck was this going? I was beginning to become a little edgy.

“Admit that I” I followed suit

“Have been cutting myself.” I went to repeat him, his words slowly sinking in.

“WHAT THE FUCK VILLE??” I yelled “You turn up on my doorstep completely unannounced then accuse me of the acts of a raving lunatic!!” I hoped to God that he couldn’t hear the truth in my voice and see the fear that was flashing across my face.

“I have always thought you were a raving lunatic Bam Bam!” He walked over to the couch and plonked himself down, patting the seat next to him. “Come Bam Bam. You have a lot of explaining to do and you don’t want to do it standing up.”

“I don’t want to do it sitting down either.” I grumbled as I sat down next to him. I just knew he was going to get to the truth. I could see it in his face, his eyes having not left me since he arrived. At least I could give him a version of the truth that wasn’t quite as extreme as the real truth was.

“From the beginning.” He said his voice much more gentle then before. I sighed loudly to display my annoyance at the whole situation.

“It’s really not that bad Ville. Stop acting like it’s a big thing. You’re not a shrink so stop acting like I’m a fucking psychiatric patient.” I yelled at him. He stared calmly back at me “What the hell do you want to know anyway?”

“When did it all start?” His voice was gentle and slow. I started to feel bad for yelling at him.

“What does it matter? It’s happening now. Isn’t that all you care about?” I was met with an unfazed stare, which hadn’t left his face since he had arrived on my doorstep half an hour before. “It’s really not that bad. It’s only happened a few times, see.” I pointed to a few faded scars on my arms and wrists.

“Bull shit Bam and you know it” He had dived for my ankles and before I knew what was happening, he had ripped off my sock to reveal the mess of scars, scabs and open cuts that was my ankle.

He looked at me, his eyes were in pain but the expression on his face said he was pleased with himself that he had proved me wrong.

“FINE, so it’s more frequent then I said. How the hell do you know anyway, short of being psychic?” I honestly could think of no logical explanation that explained how Ville had known.

“It takes one to know one.” He muttered, very softly under his breath. I just barely caught his words.

“WHAT THE FUCK VILLE? You walk in here and treat me like a fucked up psycho case when you do exactly the same thing as me?” Ville was really starting to get on my nerves. Slowly, he shook his head at me.

“Not now you idiot, but I did, ages ago. No-one was surprised; I was supposedly the right ‘Type’ to do that sort of thing, but you, not what I expected. You’ve always seemed too strong for this sort of shit and way too, well, happy.”

“Yeah, well some times that just aint enough.”

“I know.” He said softly, taking my hand in his and stroking it gently. “I know,” he repeated as he squeezed my hand. I squeezed back, taking the gesture at face value, a caring friend, not seeing that it was so much more then that…

~*~

I’m not a mean person, really I’m not. My motive for being here is to save Bam from doing damage to himself or his career, but I do believe that I deserve something in return. I have suffered so much shit from this man and he doesn’t know it. I love him and I think it’s about time I got a little something in return.

I took his hand in mine and stroked it gently.
Yes, just as a little something.