Avast! new story, HO!!
I bring forth to you a new story. I am still working on my other one, but this is getting me out of my root on that one, so I bring you this. I'm not sure if I'm going to continue it, it depends on if it eats up too much time of my other story, and if you guys like it. So you'll have to vote. =]
Title: Teenage Wasteland
Pairing: Vam
Rating: R for now
Summary: Bam has lost all hope in highschool. Until Ville comes along.
Run, was all I thought as I looked out the window, of the barred classroom. Yes-- they bar our windows here, because they like to make it as close to a prison as possible. Truly, they didn't even have to try. In this maze of what we like to call a little social playground, I was handed a reputation that I certainly didn't ask for on a silver platter. You may like to think that I'm one of those anti-conformists. That I hate fitting in; that skateboarding punk that smokes pot and doesn't have feelings because he's got no-one to talk to. Take a look around you. Do it. Do I look like that type of person? Because I'm not. I'm not an individual by any means. No one is an individual, even though it's cliche for us to think we are. And just in that phrase alone, proves my point. We are the same dust. We are all the same piles of shit so widely known as human life, but we like to think we are unique because it gives us a sense of meaning.
I may not be an individual, but I know I'm better than this. I know I'm better than the square route of twelve, which I'm never going to need in my life. The only reason teachers waste their time with burnouts like us is because they like to think that something can help us. They want to think, "I'm the one that pulled that kid out of the gutter." But they're all naieve. They don't realize by this point, by being stuck in the burnout classes we have given up on ourselves. We don't care, we're perfectly aware that we're going to be working at McDonald's the rest of our pathetic lives, unless by some miracle one of us comes along that's a diamond in the ruff and is the lucky one that actually does get saved.
And that's when he walked in.
Dressed in more tight black clothing than any man should be dressed in, the entire class could smell the smoke on him, and I swear to God I saw some of it actually radiating off him and swirling around his head like his own smoke-bubble. His face was somewhat longer than most people's, which is why I assumed that he let his hair grow longer, to frame it. His green eyes looked around the class that looked back at him. You could hear the whispers already. Personally, he came off as a bit gay to me.
"Mr. Valo. You're late. And on your first day? For shame." Mr. Richardson said, pretending to wave his finger, as if he actually gave two shits.
"Yeah. I know. But it's because--" The boy started, but was interrupted.
"Wait let me guess, because you were smoking?" The class went silent, except the few that laughed.
"Ooh, I can't get anything past you, can I?" He said sarcastically.
Mr. Richardson ignored the remark and introduced the kid as Ville Valo. Apparently, he had just moved here from Finland, which would explain the accent. He was instructed to next to who else, but myself. He casually walked the two rows to his desk which was directly next to mine, and slid into the seat. He turned to me and continued to do so for quite some time.
"I'm Ville." He said, shaking his hand. I stared at it like it was going to attack me. "I know. I have ears."
It's not that I like being an asshole all the time. It's just that I'm rational. I may be in the burnout classes but I know well enough when to refuse trust. Trusting only leads to hurting, and hurting is pain which my personal emotional dictionary is undefined. I don't feel bad when I'm an asshole, because I know these people mean nothing to me. They're all the same; they're in the same position as I am, and I don't need their bullshit to know that I can make it fine on my own.
Ville didn't say anything to me the rest of the hour. He sat there and drew random shit in his notebook, and I occasionally would glance over out of pure curiosity as to what he was drawing and he would give me a devil's glare.
The bell finally rang, releasing me from that four-walled Hell and I was off to another depth of Hell commonly known as Biology. I stopped quickly to exchange my books and slammed the locker shut, and was grabbed by the collar of my shirt, slammed up against the locker and whipped around, my head made a large thud against the back of the locker. A few students turned to look to see what was going on, but no one cared enough to actually stop. I was let go and it finally registered in my mind that Ville Valo was standing infront of me.
"Dude, what the fuck is your problem?" I said, rubbing the back of my head on the sore spot the collision had caused.
"You don't like me much, do you?" He asked, in a freakishly normal tone. I could tell this guy was a real fucking genius.
"Considering you almost bashed my head in, would you blame me if I said no?" I said.
The bell rang, and I ignored Ville, and sprinted to Biology. I was late every day anyway, so Mrs. Swanson doesn't even put it past me anymore and she began the lesson by saying, "Class, we have a new student today. He comes all the way from Finland."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." I muttered.
Title: Teenage Wasteland
Pairing: Vam
Rating: R for now
Summary: Bam has lost all hope in highschool. Until Ville comes along.
Run, was all I thought as I looked out the window, of the barred classroom. Yes-- they bar our windows here, because they like to make it as close to a prison as possible. Truly, they didn't even have to try. In this maze of what we like to call a little social playground, I was handed a reputation that I certainly didn't ask for on a silver platter. You may like to think that I'm one of those anti-conformists. That I hate fitting in; that skateboarding punk that smokes pot and doesn't have feelings because he's got no-one to talk to. Take a look around you. Do it. Do I look like that type of person? Because I'm not. I'm not an individual by any means. No one is an individual, even though it's cliche for us to think we are. And just in that phrase alone, proves my point. We are the same dust. We are all the same piles of shit so widely known as human life, but we like to think we are unique because it gives us a sense of meaning.
I may not be an individual, but I know I'm better than this. I know I'm better than the square route of twelve, which I'm never going to need in my life. The only reason teachers waste their time with burnouts like us is because they like to think that something can help us. They want to think, "I'm the one that pulled that kid out of the gutter." But they're all naieve. They don't realize by this point, by being stuck in the burnout classes we have given up on ourselves. We don't care, we're perfectly aware that we're going to be working at McDonald's the rest of our pathetic lives, unless by some miracle one of us comes along that's a diamond in the ruff and is the lucky one that actually does get saved.
And that's when he walked in.
Dressed in more tight black clothing than any man should be dressed in, the entire class could smell the smoke on him, and I swear to God I saw some of it actually radiating off him and swirling around his head like his own smoke-bubble. His face was somewhat longer than most people's, which is why I assumed that he let his hair grow longer, to frame it. His green eyes looked around the class that looked back at him. You could hear the whispers already. Personally, he came off as a bit gay to me.
"Mr. Valo. You're late. And on your first day? For shame." Mr. Richardson said, pretending to wave his finger, as if he actually gave two shits.
"Yeah. I know. But it's because--" The boy started, but was interrupted.
"Wait let me guess, because you were smoking?" The class went silent, except the few that laughed.
"Ooh, I can't get anything past you, can I?" He said sarcastically.
Mr. Richardson ignored the remark and introduced the kid as Ville Valo. Apparently, he had just moved here from Finland, which would explain the accent. He was instructed to next to who else, but myself. He casually walked the two rows to his desk which was directly next to mine, and slid into the seat. He turned to me and continued to do so for quite some time.
"I'm Ville." He said, shaking his hand. I stared at it like it was going to attack me. "I know. I have ears."
It's not that I like being an asshole all the time. It's just that I'm rational. I may be in the burnout classes but I know well enough when to refuse trust. Trusting only leads to hurting, and hurting is pain which my personal emotional dictionary is undefined. I don't feel bad when I'm an asshole, because I know these people mean nothing to me. They're all the same; they're in the same position as I am, and I don't need their bullshit to know that I can make it fine on my own.
Ville didn't say anything to me the rest of the hour. He sat there and drew random shit in his notebook, and I occasionally would glance over out of pure curiosity as to what he was drawing and he would give me a devil's glare.
The bell finally rang, releasing me from that four-walled Hell and I was off to another depth of Hell commonly known as Biology. I stopped quickly to exchange my books and slammed the locker shut, and was grabbed by the collar of my shirt, slammed up against the locker and whipped around, my head made a large thud against the back of the locker. A few students turned to look to see what was going on, but no one cared enough to actually stop. I was let go and it finally registered in my mind that Ville Valo was standing infront of me.
"Dude, what the fuck is your problem?" I said, rubbing the back of my head on the sore spot the collision had caused.
"You don't like me much, do you?" He asked, in a freakishly normal tone. I could tell this guy was a real fucking genius.
"Considering you almost bashed my head in, would you blame me if I said no?" I said.
The bell rang, and I ignored Ville, and sprinted to Biology. I was late every day anyway, so Mrs. Swanson doesn't even put it past me anymore and she began the lesson by saying, "Class, we have a new student today. He comes all the way from Finland."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." I muttered.