vagueangel
in
__vam
Just Another Kid
Summary- Bam's known for a while that Ville has a little.. problem. But what happens when it starts getting out of control?
Rating- Mostly PG-13, but since it's me, there are NC-17 bits thrown in.
Caution- This is a bloody long story.
Right then... onward.
So.. This was originally posted in two parts, but I decided to post them together, cos I'm lazy.
'Proper' End
This starts off right after Ville gets transferred down to the kids' ward. It has nothing to do with the other end, so forget all that happened.
Ville sat near the window, resting his forehead against the thick, wired, shatterproof glass. He traced the path of a raindrop with one finger, completely ignoring the group session going on a few feet away.
“Ville? Are you going to join us today?”
Responding merely with a brief shake of his head, Ville continued to watch the rain slide down the dirty glass. It had been close to two weeks since he was transferred to the children’s ward, and he had yet to say a word in therapy. The kids were accepting of him, but he remained mostly detached.
His part in conversations was mostly kept to one or two words, and he often sat by himself. Ville declined offers of card or board games, instead, continuing his obsessive tracing of his tattoos and flicking of his fingers.
After the group session, the therapist asked him to stay behind. “I know this must be very hard and scary. But I need you to work with me for a while.”
Ville still stared out the window. He started counting the raindrops half under his breath, first in Finnish, then English.
“It’s a sad and awful thing, Ville, but a lot of kids have gone through the same thing you have.” The therapist paused, continuing when he got no response. “That was a long time ago, though. It’s time to let it go.”
“Only a couple months,” Ville mumbled, ceasing his counting, but not looking away from the window. He was slowly tracing the lines of his dim reflection.
“It was twenty years ago. You just had a birthday; do you know how old you are? Twenty-eight.”
Going still, Ville shut down. He stopped moving, stopped talking, stopped showing any indication he was aware of the outside world. Retreating into his own tortured mind, he sat stiffly in his chair.
The therapist tried again every day for two weeks.
“Mr. Margera, you’re wasting your money,” the doctor sighed. “Ville is all but catatonic. He barely responds to outside stimuli, doesn’t respond at all to other people… We can’t do anything for him, and frankly, we need the bed for children we can help. I’m sorry.”
Bam didn’t know whether to scream or cry. “So, that’s it? You’re done, you give up? He’s gonna be like this forever?” He couldn’t- he wouldn’t- believe it. No more three day drinking binges, no more all night sessions in bed, alternately making love and fucking like animals, no more best friend, no more love of his life, no more Ville… It was impossible.
“Maybe not. There’s nothing that says he can’t suddenly snap out of this,” the doctor was saying. “I just mean there’s nothing we can do for him here.” He paused. “When will you pick him up?”
“I’ll leave now.” Bam hung up and got dressed, completely numb. There was just no way this could be happening. He had feared losing Ville before, to girls or boys during the long months they were apart, had even feared losing him to drugs and drink a time or two. But he had never imagined anything like this.
The entire drive to New York would always be a blur to Bam, and he later wondered who had been looking out for him while he drove blind and unfeeling.
When he arrived at the hospital, Bam pulled Ville to him in a warm embrace. “Hey, gorgeous. You ready to go home?” He tried to ignore how stiff and unresponsive his boyfriend was, gently settling him into the passenger seat and buckling him in.
Then, Bam was still hoping that being with him, being home, would help Ville snap out of it.
Six Months Later
“Okay, babydoll. Time for a shower. We fuckin reek.” Bam gently stripped Ville down, then himself. He stood his lover under the spray, tenderly washing his slim, pale body.
His fingers traced over their tattoo out of habit, even though it no longer brought a response. Bam continued to talk softly while he lathered shampoo in Ville’s hair, careful to keep it out of his unfocused eyes.
In the months since Bam had brought him home, Ville only spoke a few times, and he almost never made any sense. He counted things, or repeated things Bam had said days ago. Mostly unresponsive, he would walk only when pulled along, and would stand unless Bam pushed him into a seat.
Bam refused to put him in another facility, and only had a nurse come when it was absolutely necessary. He ran his fingers through Ville’s hair, rinsing the soap out. It was down to his shoulders again; Bam hoped he didn’t mind.
“You better be ready to eat tonight, babe. I’m runnin out of veins for the IV.” Bam kept an eye on Ville while he washed himself, but his boyfriend didn’t move except to blink.
His friends called him crazy when he told them he was quitting the show and skating to take care of Ville. But Bam had the money, and it was easy to decide which he loved more, skating or Ville. He had set up his friends with their own shows and projects, making sure they were taken care of. Plus, he figured he could do some demos later, as long as they were only a day or two long. And if Ville got better- No, when he got better…
Finishing up, Bam wrapped a towel round his waist before drying Ville off and dressing him. “There ya go,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Ville’s mouth. “I love you, Ville, you know that? Whenever you’re ready to come back, I’ll be waiting. Okay?”
Ville sat on the bed where he had been placed, and stared at a spot just past Bam’s left shoulder. He began whispering to himself, and it took Bam a moment to realize it was lines from a movie they had watched four days ago.
He bent to retrieve a pair of boxers from the floor, and saw a video tape on the floor. Picking it up curiously, Bam looked for a label. When he didn’t find one, he shrugged and finished dressing. Taking the tape, he held Ville’s hand and pulled him to his feet.
Bam brought him downstairs and sat him at the table. He fixed Ville a plate and sat beside him. On good days, once Bam got him started, Ville would pick up the motion and continue to feed himself. Bam gently took his hand and closed his fingers around a piece of fried chicken. He guided it to Ville’s mouth, relieved when he amiably took a bite and chewed. Bam only had to repeat the process three times before Ville began to do it for himself.
Picking up the blank tape, Bam loaded it and hit play, sitting on the couch. His throat constricted as he watched Ville squirm on the couch, laughing and waving to the camera.
He watched himself sit down beside him, watched the two of them talk for a while, just being silly. Suddenly, he watched himself stand and walk out of the room, and turned the volume up.
Ville watched Bam leave the room, then jumped up from the couch. He moved close to the camera, slightly out of focus. Looking over his shoulder quickly, he peered anxiously at the camera, biting his lip.
“Hi, Bammie. We’re making our video now, and you’re looking for cards. Even though we have to play boring old Go Fish, cause you don’t know any good games. But it’s okay; I love you anyways.” He smiled a little as he said it, giggling softly.
Sobering quickly, Ville glanced over his shoulder again. “I wanna tell you this before you come back. You take really good care of me. I know you must get mad at me sometimes, but you never yell at me or make me stand in the corner.
“I try to be good for you, Bammie, I do. But sometimes I’m bad.” He looked down, then glanced guiltily back up at the camera. “I painted on the wall in your closet. I’m sorry. I was bored and you were busy. Also, I pulled your puppy’s tail cause he wouldn’t sit still for me to pet him. Don’t be mad, please? I told him I was sorry.
“But I wanted to tell you… I know there’s something wrong with me.” Ville bit at his lip again, idly fingering one of his damaged hands. “I don’t understand what, really… But I guess it’s not good. Sometimes when you look at me, you look so sad, Bammie, and it makes me want to cry. I like it better when you smile and laugh.
“I don’t know what’s making you so sad, but I guess it’s me, and I’ll try to be better. I’ll try so hard. You’ll be proud of me and you’ll smile and you won’t ever leave me. I love you a lot. Okay?” Ville smiled a bit, blowing a big kiss to the camera. “That’s for you, Bammie. Did you catch it? Did you-“ He jumped and broke off as Bam came back into the room.
Shutting the tape off, Bam was surprised to find his cheeks were damp. He wiped at his face, his eyes. Ville had never seen the tape, he had been too far gone too quickly, and Bam hadn’t been able to bring himself to watch it.
It made him wonder though, made him wonder how much Ville actually remembered, and what he still understood, even if he was unable, or unwilling, to articulate it.
He hoped one day, he’d get the chance to ask.
Wiping his eyes again, Bam took a few deep breaths before getting up to retrieve the tape. He went into the kitchen to clean Ville up, dropping the tape in the bin on the way.
That's it. The end. For real this time. Thanks for comin along for the ride. ^_^
Rating- Mostly PG-13, but since it's me, there are NC-17 bits thrown in.
Caution- This is a bloody long story.
Right then... onward.
So.. This was originally posted in two parts, but I decided to post them together, cos I'm lazy.
'Proper' End
This starts off right after Ville gets transferred down to the kids' ward. It has nothing to do with the other end, so forget all that happened.
Ville sat near the window, resting his forehead against the thick, wired, shatterproof glass. He traced the path of a raindrop with one finger, completely ignoring the group session going on a few feet away.
“Ville? Are you going to join us today?”
Responding merely with a brief shake of his head, Ville continued to watch the rain slide down the dirty glass. It had been close to two weeks since he was transferred to the children’s ward, and he had yet to say a word in therapy. The kids were accepting of him, but he remained mostly detached.
His part in conversations was mostly kept to one or two words, and he often sat by himself. Ville declined offers of card or board games, instead, continuing his obsessive tracing of his tattoos and flicking of his fingers.
After the group session, the therapist asked him to stay behind. “I know this must be very hard and scary. But I need you to work with me for a while.”
Ville still stared out the window. He started counting the raindrops half under his breath, first in Finnish, then English.
“It’s a sad and awful thing, Ville, but a lot of kids have gone through the same thing you have.” The therapist paused, continuing when he got no response. “That was a long time ago, though. It’s time to let it go.”
“Only a couple months,” Ville mumbled, ceasing his counting, but not looking away from the window. He was slowly tracing the lines of his dim reflection.
“It was twenty years ago. You just had a birthday; do you know how old you are? Twenty-eight.”
Going still, Ville shut down. He stopped moving, stopped talking, stopped showing any indication he was aware of the outside world. Retreating into his own tortured mind, he sat stiffly in his chair.
The therapist tried again every day for two weeks.
“Mr. Margera, you’re wasting your money,” the doctor sighed. “Ville is all but catatonic. He barely responds to outside stimuli, doesn’t respond at all to other people… We can’t do anything for him, and frankly, we need the bed for children we can help. I’m sorry.”
Bam didn’t know whether to scream or cry. “So, that’s it? You’re done, you give up? He’s gonna be like this forever?” He couldn’t- he wouldn’t- believe it. No more three day drinking binges, no more all night sessions in bed, alternately making love and fucking like animals, no more best friend, no more love of his life, no more Ville… It was impossible.
“Maybe not. There’s nothing that says he can’t suddenly snap out of this,” the doctor was saying. “I just mean there’s nothing we can do for him here.” He paused. “When will you pick him up?”
“I’ll leave now.” Bam hung up and got dressed, completely numb. There was just no way this could be happening. He had feared losing Ville before, to girls or boys during the long months they were apart, had even feared losing him to drugs and drink a time or two. But he had never imagined anything like this.
The entire drive to New York would always be a blur to Bam, and he later wondered who had been looking out for him while he drove blind and unfeeling.
When he arrived at the hospital, Bam pulled Ville to him in a warm embrace. “Hey, gorgeous. You ready to go home?” He tried to ignore how stiff and unresponsive his boyfriend was, gently settling him into the passenger seat and buckling him in.
Then, Bam was still hoping that being with him, being home, would help Ville snap out of it.
Six Months Later
“Okay, babydoll. Time for a shower. We fuckin reek.” Bam gently stripped Ville down, then himself. He stood his lover under the spray, tenderly washing his slim, pale body.
His fingers traced over their tattoo out of habit, even though it no longer brought a response. Bam continued to talk softly while he lathered shampoo in Ville’s hair, careful to keep it out of his unfocused eyes.
In the months since Bam had brought him home, Ville only spoke a few times, and he almost never made any sense. He counted things, or repeated things Bam had said days ago. Mostly unresponsive, he would walk only when pulled along, and would stand unless Bam pushed him into a seat.
Bam refused to put him in another facility, and only had a nurse come when it was absolutely necessary. He ran his fingers through Ville’s hair, rinsing the soap out. It was down to his shoulders again; Bam hoped he didn’t mind.
“You better be ready to eat tonight, babe. I’m runnin out of veins for the IV.” Bam kept an eye on Ville while he washed himself, but his boyfriend didn’t move except to blink.
His friends called him crazy when he told them he was quitting the show and skating to take care of Ville. But Bam had the money, and it was easy to decide which he loved more, skating or Ville. He had set up his friends with their own shows and projects, making sure they were taken care of. Plus, he figured he could do some demos later, as long as they were only a day or two long. And if Ville got better- No, when he got better…
Finishing up, Bam wrapped a towel round his waist before drying Ville off and dressing him. “There ya go,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Ville’s mouth. “I love you, Ville, you know that? Whenever you’re ready to come back, I’ll be waiting. Okay?”
Ville sat on the bed where he had been placed, and stared at a spot just past Bam’s left shoulder. He began whispering to himself, and it took Bam a moment to realize it was lines from a movie they had watched four days ago.
He bent to retrieve a pair of boxers from the floor, and saw a video tape on the floor. Picking it up curiously, Bam looked for a label. When he didn’t find one, he shrugged and finished dressing. Taking the tape, he held Ville’s hand and pulled him to his feet.
Bam brought him downstairs and sat him at the table. He fixed Ville a plate and sat beside him. On good days, once Bam got him started, Ville would pick up the motion and continue to feed himself. Bam gently took his hand and closed his fingers around a piece of fried chicken. He guided it to Ville’s mouth, relieved when he amiably took a bite and chewed. Bam only had to repeat the process three times before Ville began to do it for himself.
Picking up the blank tape, Bam loaded it and hit play, sitting on the couch. His throat constricted as he watched Ville squirm on the couch, laughing and waving to the camera.
He watched himself sit down beside him, watched the two of them talk for a while, just being silly. Suddenly, he watched himself stand and walk out of the room, and turned the volume up.
Ville watched Bam leave the room, then jumped up from the couch. He moved close to the camera, slightly out of focus. Looking over his shoulder quickly, he peered anxiously at the camera, biting his lip.
“Hi, Bammie. We’re making our video now, and you’re looking for cards. Even though we have to play boring old Go Fish, cause you don’t know any good games. But it’s okay; I love you anyways.” He smiled a little as he said it, giggling softly.
Sobering quickly, Ville glanced over his shoulder again. “I wanna tell you this before you come back. You take really good care of me. I know you must get mad at me sometimes, but you never yell at me or make me stand in the corner.
“I try to be good for you, Bammie, I do. But sometimes I’m bad.” He looked down, then glanced guiltily back up at the camera. “I painted on the wall in your closet. I’m sorry. I was bored and you were busy. Also, I pulled your puppy’s tail cause he wouldn’t sit still for me to pet him. Don’t be mad, please? I told him I was sorry.
“But I wanted to tell you… I know there’s something wrong with me.” Ville bit at his lip again, idly fingering one of his damaged hands. “I don’t understand what, really… But I guess it’s not good. Sometimes when you look at me, you look so sad, Bammie, and it makes me want to cry. I like it better when you smile and laugh.
“I don’t know what’s making you so sad, but I guess it’s me, and I’ll try to be better. I’ll try so hard. You’ll be proud of me and you’ll smile and you won’t ever leave me. I love you a lot. Okay?” Ville smiled a bit, blowing a big kiss to the camera. “That’s for you, Bammie. Did you catch it? Did you-“ He jumped and broke off as Bam came back into the room.
Shutting the tape off, Bam was surprised to find his cheeks were damp. He wiped at his face, his eyes. Ville had never seen the tape, he had been too far gone too quickly, and Bam hadn’t been able to bring himself to watch it.
It made him wonder though, made him wonder how much Ville actually remembered, and what he still understood, even if he was unable, or unwilling, to articulate it.
He hoped one day, he’d get the chance to ask.
Wiping his eyes again, Bam took a few deep breaths before getting up to retrieve the tape. He went into the kitchen to clean Ville up, dropping the tape in the bin on the way.
That's it. The end. For real this time. Thanks for comin along for the ride. ^_^