Drunk on Shadows New fic!

[x_tragedies]

*waves* I think I have lurked around here long enough so I bring a fic for your reading enjoyment. Some how it became a chapter story so I decided to go ahead and post a couple of chapters before something happens to my muse. ;)

Drunk on Shadows
Paring: Ville/Bam
Rating: NC -17 for substance abuse, language, and sexual situations ;)
Summary: Some times I think maybe it would be better to go back to that numbness...where it's safe and I won't feel the pain that life inevitably brings. Ville is struggling with addiction and an unhappy marriage. Bam is losing faith in love and is scared that he is losing Ville.
Disclaimer: Don’t own, don't know, never happen!

Comments, sacrifices, and cookies are appreciated even if you want to beat me with large sticks after you read this. But don’t you just love the anguish? ;)



Ville looked at his packed bags, then looked at the door, taking a deep breath and running his hands through his messy hair. This was it. Four weeks of hard work, tears and an emotional rollercoaster was about to be put to the test. He was on his own.

Four weeks ago he didn’t know if he could do it. He was hanging on by a string when he finally admitted he had a problem and needed help. But when his thirty days were finally up at the rehab facility, he and his doctors discussed his progress and decided he was ready to finally go home. So the first thing he did was call his band mates and tell them the good news. They'd been amazingly supportive. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to repay them for giving him this time to get himself together. He knew they were facing a lot of criticism and possible lawsuits, but they hadn't pressured him at all. A lump formed in his throat as he thought again about how lucky he was to have them in his life. Mige especially. While he'd been in rehab, they hadn't gone a day without talking. He still felt a ton of guilt over what he'd put his best friend through, but he was trying to let it go. Mige kept telling him he'd forgiven him. Now it was up to Ville to forgive himself.

And then there was Bam. He hadn't seen or talked to Bam since that night he wish he could forget. But he still loved Bam intensely, doubted anything would ever change that, but he wasn't obsessed anymore. That was unhealthy and had caused most of his problems. No, he was past that part of it. He had to be. He and Bam could never be, no matter how much it still hurt. He'd come so close to his dream. He'd had him in his arms, in his bed, almost inside him, but at the last second the dream had been yanked away by reality and that was something he had to deal with. That was just life.

But during the last four weeks, things had finally become clear to him about the man who had his heart and the woman who had his vows. First, he realized he'd married Jonna for the wrong reasons. He'd married her to avoid loneliness and he also did it for his mother. She always wanted him to settle down and have a family. He'd just turned twenty-eight when he'd asked Jonna and by the time they'd married, he had been close to turning thirty. He was staring his thirties in the face and had just realized most of his dreams had come true professionally, but none personally. He'd seen Jonna as a cure all to that. He'd been wrong, so wrong.

The second thing that had become clear to him was that he'd been in love with Bam since they met almost 6 years ago. But he'd pushed those feelings down deep and tried his best to ignored them all this time, but they'd been there just the same. Ever since he'd met the skater, there'd been something there. Of course, at the time Bam was in a serious relationship with his now ex fiancé Jenn. Missy was another story.

The third, and hardest thing he'd come to terms with was that now was not the time to do anything about the feelings he was finally aware of. He didn't even know if Bam was still in love with him anyway. Contrary to the public's belief, he hadn't seen or talked to him since he left the hotel that morning four weeks ago. Ryan was his only connection to Bam now. Ryan was the one who called Bam to break the news about Ville checking himself into rehab. After Ryan told him, the guys assumed Bam's silence towards Ville had something to do with the words spoken that night in the hotel room and of course the letter Ville wrote two days after he'd went into the program asking him to not contact him while he was there He'd explained that a lot of the reason he'd been drinking, and eventually doing drugs, was because of his feelings for him and now he needed time to get past it all, to move on.

Ryan found part of this letter balled up on the floor next to the trash. The ink was smeared from what it looked like to be tears spilled across the paper. He knew it wasn't any of his business, but maybe if he could find out what had happened back then, he’d find a clue that would help in saving the friendship of two of his closest friends.

I used to think a bottle of Jager, a couple of lines of coke, and several packs of Marlboro’s was a solution to my problems. For a while I thought it was working. I thought it was better than just letting it turn inward and turn me cold and bitter. And trust me, I have been cold and bitter....I have been to the point where I just prayed that I would die...not suicide mind you...I would never kill myself, it's just too chickenshit a way to go...but there was a time that I spent every night going to sleep with the thought that I just didn't want to wake up again, and if there was a God, he would be merciful and would put me out of my misery.

Then of course, when I did wake up, I would blame God. In fact, after a while I gave up on believing in anything...why did he put me through all of this anyway? Why force me to feel so much pain on a daily basis when I could just be at peace somewhere where all of this shit doesn't even register?

Yeah, I was fucked up...hated the people that loved me, hated the world, hated myself. But what I hated even more were the people who had a different perspective. I hated the fact that while I was wallowing in despair, there were people out in the world who woke up everyday grateful just to be alive. Those shiny, happy people who made me want to choke rather than look at their sickeningly, sweet smiles. And there was a part of me that wanted to hurt them, to change their perspectives, for them to see the world as I did. I was cruel and hurtful and angry and bitter....I thought I hated these people...because they were obviously idiots to be so goddamn happy and cheerful all of the time. Who could possibly be happy in a world full of such chaos, destruction and utter cruelty? Who could read the newspaper and hell...watch a talk show like Jerry Springer, without giving up all hope in humanity?

But the truth was, I hated them because I wanted that peace. I wanted to wake up grateful to be alive. I wanted to look at my life and feel blessed. I did a lot of horrible things to a lot of good people before finally coming to that conclusion. But the last person I hurt really did me in. After that, I broke down… but hitting rock bottom helped me to realize for the first time since I could remember, I wasn't angry. I was regretful as hell, and I wished with all of my heart I could take back the horrible things I had said and done ...but I was also grateful...more grateful for that regret than I had ever been before in my life. Because now, I saw what I had been missing in my life, what I had lost...myself. I had spent so much of my life trying to protect myself that I had ended up numb. I wouldn’t allow myself to love or even be loved ...I tried so hard to not feel pain, that I had ended up incapable of feeling anything. And with that knowledge...a dam broke. For the first time in my life...it felt ok to hurt. I couldn't control it, and I wasn't ashamed.

I am not saying that overnight I was a new person. It's impossible to go from a cold-hearted asshole to an angel. And Jesus was it difficult coming to terms with all of the ways that I had been not only self - destructing, but also actively trying to destroy others close to me. But I finally realized that while it may be easier to hate others…the truth is that what I hated was what I had become. A person so envious and afraid of being seen as weak that I had become nothing more than a shell. And I am still surprised sometimes to realize that I can't even remember anything about my life before this realization came to me. Sure I remember little things, but that person wasn't me...and the life I lived feels like it belonged to someone else and I was just looking in on it from time to time.
I guess I am writing this because right now I’m still scared. What if the next drink will be my last? Some times I think maybe it would be better to go back to that numbness...where it's safe and I won't feel the pain that life inevitably brings. I think about all the things I have lost… what we could of had together now and the fact that now when I go to sleep every night, my last thoughts are still about you Bam. And then I pray everything I did could be undone...that things could be good between us...because despite having to worry about my career, and all of the day to day bullshit.... And no matter how hard things get, or how painful life is I want you to know I will always love you even if you can‘t forgive me. I would rather feel that than feel nothing at all…

Ville~
He closed his eyes, trying to clear his thoughts of everything but the present moment. He hadn't only been addicted to the alcohol and to a lesser extent the drugs, he'd also been addicted to Bam. One day at a time, one hour at a time, one minute at a time. That was his motto now. He intended to live by it as if his life depended on it.
Opening his eyes again, he patted his back pocket, making sure his list of AA meetings was still there. His counselor had put the list together for him. It had meetings and addresses in all the cities they would be hitting on tour. It, along with her number, was his lifeline.
Taking a deep breath, he picked up his bags and headed for the door for the car waiting for him outside. Mige said he would come to pick him up, but Ville decided this was his to do alone. He stepped out into the morning air and inhaled. It was the first day of the rest of his life, and he was damn happy to be alive to see it.

Chapter 2- And you're the problem and you can't feel

At around four in the morning, Ville stumbled out of the elevator, Ryan was holding him upright. After the confrontation at the bar with Bam and his band mates over his drinking habits, the last thing Ville had wanted to do was go back to the hotel and face them. Instead he’d cruised from bar to bar, drinking himself into a stupor. Now he just needed sleep and the blessed oblivion it would bring….

A few rooms down, Bam leaned back against the door to his room, running his hand through his hair. Why did he let Ville get to him so much? No one had the power to get him as frustrated or as upset as Ville did. Not even his mother. He stared at the phone across the room. Missy. Yeah, that was what he needed. To hear her voice. Maybe vent a little about his problems with his girl. He frowned as he crossed the room realizing he hadn’t talked to her since he left for the tour a week ago. He punched in her number and brushed off the thought as the phone rang, picking up on the third ring.
"Hello?"
Funny, hearing her voice after a week without her should have put a smile on his face. "Hey baby. How are you?"
"I’m ok. How’s the tour?"
He sighed, sitting down. "Not so great. Something’s up with Ville, he seems so unhappy and I can’t get him to talk. He has been drinking a lot lately…"
"Maybe you should just leave him alone for a change."
What was that tone in her voice? Bitterness? "What are you talking about? He’s my friend. I can’t just leave him alone."
"No, I don’t suppose you can."
He knew he hadn’t imagined the hint of sarcasm she delivered with that last comment. "What’s wrong with you, Mis? Something got you upset?"
There was a short pause on the other end, then he heard her sigh. "No, Brandon. Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine. Hey listen. Is that all you called me for, because I was just on my way out the door."
"Oh. Yeah, that was it. Where are you going?"
"Nowhere special. Just shopping."
Just shopping? And it was more important that talking to him when they hadn’t spoken in a week? "Oh, ok. I’ll let you go. Love you baby."
"Love you too."
Bam just sat there listening to the dial tone after she hung up until it cut out and the annoying phone lady’s voice came on. Hanging up, he stood and crossed to the window, looking out at nothing in particular.
What was going on with her, with them? They had been so close when they’d first gotten together. Not anymore. Now shopping was more important than the first conversation they’d had in a week. A voice in the back of his head screamed that it was only the first year of their engagement. They should be touching a lot, kissing a lot, staring into each other’s eyes with goofy expressions on their faces, sharing secret jokes, craving each other’s company. For a while now he’d put it off as being comfortable with each other. After all, they had known each other for almost four years…but now he was starting to wonder.

Chapter 3- I'm holding on by letting go of you"

Ville held on to Ryan’s shoulder as he lead him to door. Ville’s had two goals for the night, number one was to avoid passing out and two was to not make friends with the floor again. When Ryan let go of him to open his door, Ville swayed and fell against the wall, his shoulder hitting the wooden frame hard. He let out a pained yelp and Ryan abandoned his efforts to get the door open and grabbed a hold of him again to keep him from slowly sliding down the wall. Ville vaguely heard a door down the hall open and closed his eyes, praying it wasn’t one of his band mates or Seppo.

His prayers were answered for a change as a moment later, he heard Bam voice next to him. "I’ve got him Ryan. Just open his door and I’ll take care of the rest."
Ryan released him and Ville found himself transferred to another warm body as Bam mumbled a quick thanks, followed by the sound of the door lock clicking open. Ville sagged against Bam, keeping his eyes closed as Bam led him into his suite and to the bedroom. He felt himself being released and then falling but didn’t much care, as long as he landed on something soft, which he did. Opening his eyes, he found himself face down on his bed.

He rolled over onto his back and watched, transfixed as Bam undid first one shoe and then the other, pulling them both off. Why hadn’t he noticed how beautiful Bam was before now. Until that moment, Bam had just been Bam. But right now, he was some blue eyed angel come to take care of him. He was confused as to why he was though. This was his friend, someone he cared about. That thought pulled him back to reality. And reality was, Ville was drunk and would probably regret this in the morning.

“Bammie” Ville’s tried hard not to slur the pet name he gave Bam.

Bam stopped what he was doing, letting the shoes drop out of his hands and onto the floor as he looked over at Ville’s face. What he saw made his heart break.

"What is it Vil?"

"Why?" Ville managed to choke out.

Bam sat next to him on the bed. He knew what he was asking. Why was he there helping him after the way he’d treated him earlier. He shrugged.
"Someone has to, I guess."

Ville struggled to sit up, grabbing Bam’s arm to help him. He ignored the way the room spun in response. "Ryan could have."

"It isn’t his job."

"It isn’t yours either."

Bam sighed, exasperated. In all honesty, he didn’t know why he was there.

"Look, do you want my help or not, cuz I’ll stop and go back to bed this minute if you don’t. I’d rather be there sleeping anyway than in here dealing with your sorry ass."

Tears streamed down Ville’s face fast and hard and he threw his arms around Bam burying his face in his shoulder.

"I’m sorry. Bam, I’m so sorry."

Bam was momentarily frozen. This was the last thing he’d expected Ville to do. Of course, he hadn’t expected Ville to hurt him the way he had earlier either. Slowly his arms circled Ville’s small, sob-wracked frame. He rubbed his back soothingly.

"It’s okay, Ville, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. You were just upset."

"Still…I shouldn’t…I didn’t mean…oh fuck it…just please don’t hate me." Ville mumbled into his shoulder. His head was swimming in alcohol, but he didn’t want to give in to the oblivion of sleep until he knew Bam forgave him.

Bam grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away from him slightly so he could look him in the eye.

"Ville, I was hurt and angry, yes, but I don’t hate you. If I did, I wouldn’t be here right now."

Ville looked up at him. "You forgive me?"

Bam rolled his eyes. He knew Ville tended to blow things out of proportion when he was drunk, but this was ridiculous. He was acting like he’d killed his dog or something.

"Yes, yes I forgive you, okay? It wasn’t that big of a deal anyway. Let’s just forget it and get you ready for bed."

Ville turned and brought his hands to Bam’s face, staring into his ocean blue eyes he lost himself in too many times to count.

“I don‘t deserve you” Ville said trying to hide the emotion in his voice.

He brought Bam’s face closer to his. Ville’s lips were an inch away from the younger man’s mouth. Bam didn’t move, all he could hear was the constant pounding of his heart inside his chest. Ville lean in closer pressing his lips against Bam’s, their tongues meeting each others in a slow kiss. Bam thought he was having one of those dreams again.

Neither of them had planned on the kiss, and neither had planned on the spark of electricity that shot through them both either.
Bam kiss deepen as he put his hands around Ville’s skinny waist. Digging his fingers into the black material that covered his frame, he clawed at the thick cotton, grasping at it until it burnt his fingertips and then he let go, letting himself imagine the act of undressing Ville and pushing himself deep inside of him.

Not breaking the kiss, Ville’s free hand moved down to Bam’s waist, passing his hard stomach and the tattoo that mirrored his. Bam felt Ville’s fingers pulling down the zipper to his jeans then the button being undone. Ville’s hands pulled down his boxers revealing Bam's growing semi. He wrapped his fingers around Bam's length, the sudden contact of Ville’s dry palm rubbing up and down his shaft forced him to moan into the other man’s mouth.

Being caught up in the moment, suddenly Bam realized he couldn't let this go any further and shook his head, pulling Ville’s loving hand away from his lap.

"I want you too, but not like this. Not drunk off your ass, Ville. If we ever do have sex, I want you to be sober and still want it."

Ville blinked, the room slowly coming back into focus. He sat up, ignoring the dizzy spell that immediately washed over him.

"Bam, I need you."

Bam dropped to his knees, hands on the bed on either side of Ville’s narrow hips.

"Ville, shut up you’re being a drunk nidiot right now. You don’t know what you’re doing. I do. I know better."

Ville chuckled, reaching out and running a hand over Bam’s cheek.

"Believe me Bam, I know exactly what I’m doing. I want you."

“But Willa this is not how it should be.” Ville could hear the sadness in Bam’s voice.

Ville studied Bam’s baby blue eyes for a long moment before nodding. "Okay, I understand. But will you stay with me tonight?" He acknowledged somewhere in the back of his drunken thoughts that Bam had called him willa. It was stupid, but he liked it.

"willa…"

There it was again. Ville put a finger to his lips. Lips that were red and swollen from his kiss. "Not that way, Bam. I…I just want you to hold me. It gets lonely in this big bed at night. Please." Unlike before, he’d said it this time as an endearment.

"Ok, I’ll stay. But just to sleep. Nothing more." Bam punched Ville in the arm playfully.

Ville smiled and scooted up on the bed until his head was laying on a pillow. Bam took off his shirt and jeans and climbed in, spooning against him. Ville snuggled close sighing as he felt his arms come around him from behind. In a matter of moments they were both asleep.

A couple of hours later, Bam was still asleep beside Ville and he was staring up at the ceiling more sober than not. That was something he didn’t like. Being sober. Too many thoughts ran through his head. Thoughts about where Jonna and he were headed, about his career, and most of all about the man that laid beside him.

Carefully he climbed out of the bed, not wanting to wake him. He pulled on his boxers and headed to the sitting room, specifically to the minibar. Searching around, he discovered he was out of alcohol. Shit. Fuck. He needed a buzz badly.
Heading to the phone, he called down to the desk. A minute later he slammed the phone down. An hour. A fucking goddamn hour. They wouldn’t be able to stock him up for an hour. Bullshit. He couldn’t wait an hour. He thought about going down to the hotel bar, but realized he couldn’t. Too much chance of getting caught.

His mind flitted to the little white bag that laid in his jacket pocket on the chair. He’d almost forgotten about that. He hadn’t touched the stuff since the other night when Jonna called him and wouldn‘t shut the fuck up about him being selfish or something along those lines. Honestly all he could remember was being called a bastard and being hung up on. Oh well, like it mattered. The only thing that mattered right then was getting his mind off everything.

Minutes later he was in the bathroom, snorting a line of the precious white dust. He stood up wiping the leftover white powder off his nose. He looked in the mirror waiting to see the high come over him, but instead he seen the reflection of Bam in the bathroom mirror. Ville would never forget the way Bam looked standing in the doorway watching him stiff his life away. It was too late though, the rush was taking him over and he couldn’t find the desire to give a shit. He smiled, something he hasn‘t done for some time.

"Hey sweetheart, want some? There’s plenty."

~~~
Should I continue? Si or no?