The Endless: Chapter 17!
OH...so sorry I'm so late. I've been so busy writing fluffy vam and getting wasted with my parents and watching Sailor Moon and doing homework...my life has been mildly lived these past few days. I apologize.
Title: The Endless (yes, this title does suck, I know)
Genre and Rating: Alternative…N/R (mwahahaha)
Summary: A cynical, enslaved Ville is bound to murder one of the few males who has ever shown him tenderness.
POV: Alternating between first person Bam and first person Ville
Pairing: Vam, eventually. Then, nothing will matter but the vam.
Author’s Note: Most of the chapters have been influenced by songs. I borrow lyrics quite often.
Disclaimer: The obvious: I don’t own any of those who resemble someone in real life. Also, one of my best friends invented Kamilah. Other characters and the plotline, however, are mine.
Warning: This story may be perceived as incredibly angsty…for violence against others and the self, negative attitudes, and just sheer insanity…homicidal or otherwise.
Previous Chapters: http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/1628462.html
Chapter 17:
(Bam)
He was trying so hard to get comfortable, but I could tell every toss and turn he made caused intense pain. I felt his whole body stiffen in the bed after he’d turned away from me to lie on his left side. He’d moved away from me almost frantically when he’d felt our legs touch. I’d been almost afraid to say anything, and bad as I wanted to hold him after all I’d just seen and heard, I didn’t dare. I couldn’t let anything ruin this…
No, not after he’d looked up to me, begging me not to leave…promising he wouldn’t ‘get psychotic on me’ again…that he’d just sleep. He looked so guilty about something he claimed he couldn’t even remember doing. I’d had to explain to him what had taken place…about the way he stood over me, threw me against the bed…slipped off my shirt…how I’d let him. I’d told him about his tears, the way he shook when I told him he didn’t have to kiss me. He had only stared more and cried harder. I hadn’t bothered to mention how I’d had one of the most overwhelming hard-ons I could ever remember experiencing or how I shook so hard with fear I thought I was going to break. Some of the things he’d let slip out of his mouth after that had made me so enraged…for him. I wanted to murder the person who’d abused and scarred him…the one who kept him here and hurt him so bad…warped him into thinking he had to be this way. Of course, he wouldn’t tell me who yet, but I would just have to worry about that later.
Right now he looked so miserable…somehow managing to position himself side-ways from the waist up and apparently trying to avoid letting his legs touch the mattress…he couldn’t possibly sleep like that. I wondered if his eyes were open or shut. He stirred again, making me hold my breath anxiously.
“Um…Bam…I’ll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom, okay?” I made a groan in response, not completely aware I’d done it…not realizing he was looking to me as if he wanted some sort of approval. I’d been so busy thinking about him, I hadn’t seen the pleading eyes.
“Bam…Bam…I won’t be long,…okay?” He was supporting himself on the bed, the thin arms that appeared so frail keeping him from falling back on the mattress. I thought any minute he was about to collapse, but he stood still, slowly lifting himself away. I nodded and smiled in recognition finally…thinking maybe he was hurt bad enough for me to have to doctor him up again…but I thought maybe I’d asked enough questions for one night…and so I left it alone.
He pushed himself off the bed, moving to support his weight with the wall…trying to make his way across the room and down the hall…clamping his neck with one hand and raking his fingers across the wall with the other.
“Hey, do you need any help?” I asked loud enough for him to hear, feeling my voice echo slightly through his cavern-like room. I always felt too loud, too big…for all these delicate pretty places, these delicate pretty people…He turned to look behind him sideways, shaking his head slowly…
“No, I’m fine. I just have a bit of a headache; I need some Tylenol.” And he continued to mope down the hall until I lost sight of him. A bit worrisome, yes, but I wasn’t about to follow him around the house…It would probably do more harm than help.
I found myself looking around the darkened room…there wasn’t much else to do. It wasn’t as if I slept at night; especially tonight, with all that had happened between the time I’d come panting to his door and this moment. I couldn’t seem to put together all the things he’d said to me…I was missing something. I was missing a lot…I know there’d been so much he wouldn’t tell me…but I guess I could only hope for so much in one night.
The room seemed to have underwent some haphazard rearrangement. Furniture had been moved hastily into unsettling places, as if someone had been trying to conceal a bad spot of wall. His bed was stuffed into the far corner of the room, the head of it having been slammed against the dusky grayish wall behind it, a sharp wooden stool table being jammed up next to the bed over on his side. As a matter of fact, all that was on my side of the bed was another gray wall. I’d chosen this side of the bed fearing he’d feel trapped if I opted for the outer side, just as I had last time. If I’d realized one thing about him by now, it was that he was a lot more vulnerable than he tried to act…Oh, God-ness bless his heart…if all sarcastic, toughened people felt the way he did…then god-ness bless them too. Damn Kamilah and the words she made up; they were contagious. I just realized I’d been using ‘her word’ for quite a while now…without even acknowledging what I’d been doing…oh well. It seems recently I’d been taking credit for a lot of the things she’d made up…including our basement. I still can’t believe I’d told him that beautiful room had been my creation. What a liar. I was one big fib…he’d know I couldn’t have ever been capable of something like that if he let me hang around long enough. I could see the little heater, now at the foot of the bed, that he’d sat in front of that morning, the plug pulling tight across the entrance to a deep, mysterious closet and reaching to a socket on the opposite wall. Well, that certainly didn’t look healthy. Someone could have tripped over that, or started a fire by knocking the heater over. I guess I’d never been completely careless with all the dangerous pranks and shit I’d pulled in what might as well be my past life. I’d gotten in the habit to notice things like that…it was what had kept me alive. I guess I’d just wanted to believe my stunts were careless, but honestly I’d put a lot of caution into them. I just realized I’ve never been spontaneous…I was just really good at making it look that way. If I’d ever been as spontaneous as people thought, I would have been dead before I turned fourteen. As it came about, all that caution paid off for a pathetic ten more years.
Ville had been so nervous when I first tried to talk to him, it was like prying the lid from a shaken up bottle that was about to burst. He’d made me think of one of those cartoon characters with crosses in their eyes and their lips sewed up…completely untouchable. We’d sat there at the table for a long time just staring back at each other. His microwave meal was ready. He just sat there. I wasn’t sure what the hell to do with him that moment.
“You can eat first, you know. It’s not like I’m some reporter come to interview you. This doesn’t have to be all formal and everything.” God-ness, I’d sounded like such a kid the way I’d talked to him. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever once have the chance to really act like an adult…it was like a curse that had come with the way Ape and Phil had spoiled me so much…letting me do practically whatever I wanted. It fucking crept into the way I’d talked, even now I that I seem to be running away from all the things I used to be, I still have this spoiled brat rude little boy inside my head. I doubt he’ll ever completely get a life.
Ville snapped out of his stare, blinking twice and twitching slightly, as if he had to do this before he could function. Almost like a kitten just waking from a nap…and I wanted to slap myself in the face for thinking just how gorgeous he was, feeling that familiar burning course through my whole body, making me want to jump across the table and ravish him right there in his large cushiony chair. How long was I going to want him like this before I got some peace? It was part of that spoiled brat I’d been trying to make grow up these two years. I’d told myself before how much I just wanted to make love to him…but that had been before I’d thought about it for a whole weekend; before I’d seen him so shaken he couldn’t even stand. The boy just needed a friend, dammit. However he’d been mistreated, I wasn’t about to be the cause of more agony.
Of course, I hadn’t jumped on him as I’d been craving, but I had to get up nonetheless, if just to use some of my energy. I ended up walking across the kitchen and bringing him the food he’d failed to get, fumbling around for a few minutes trying to find the silverware drawer, and then setting his burrito, replete with fork and plate, in front of him on the table. I stood over him for a moment…making him look up at me, a look of paranoia stabbing me in the face.
“Do you want me to stay in here with you? I can go into the living room while you’re eating, if you want.”
“I don’t see that it matters a great deal…of course it I’d feel a bit strange with you just sitting doing nothing while I eat…”
“Well, that’s fine. I’ll go in there.” I walked away into the shadowed room with the couch, feeling more awkward than if I’d stayed in the kitchen…why had I even asked? Would he ever want to tell me what was going on, or would I really have to pin him to the floor? I had walked onto the white carpet of the living room, turning to look at the upstairs balcony, wondering what could be up there when a very sarcastic comment floated out of the kitchen.
“Thanks for bringing it over here…Bammie.” That didn’t sound too nice…his voice had gotten that crisp, bitter tone again. And what was with all these funny add-ons he was giving to my Official Nickname? I decided to just keep my mouth closed for awhile and wait for him to calm down… I was beginning to wonder if that ever happened. I plopped down on the couch and stared at the white walls, the chandelier seeming to dominate the entire room with its delicate, icy crystals that glittered prisms about the entire room, even in the yellow light from the bulbs in the kitchen. I could imagine it making pretty rainbows in the sunlight…but I wouldn’t see that. According to Kamilah, becoming powerful like her involved drinking from large amounts of innocent humans; I just couldn’t do it. I’d tried to get the blood I needed without hurting people; and every time I slipped up just a little bit I’d felt like doing something very violent, such as throwing up or beating my head against a wall for three days straight.
I’d been caught off guard through my pondering, as he’d managed to slip into the room without my noticing and lighting on the couch I was sitting on; he was right next to me.
“I’m sorry…”
“Sorry for what?”
“For having a smart mouth.”
“You mean, as you were ‘thanking’ me…you sarcastic little brat?”
“Yeah.”
“And why?”
“Why am I sorry?”
“Well, that’s a good start…”
“Because…because I think you’d be good to me. Hell, you’re that already. And, and I like you.” I sighed…heaved. He looked so lost. It brought me from anger and irritation to tripping all over myself with something beyond sympathy. Now I wanted to hold him close and shelter him away from all that hurt.
“W-what do you mean, I’d be good to you?”
He looked at me as if I were daft, shocked almost…and then he spoke so low he nearly whispered… “Are you completely unaware of how fucking kind you’ve been to me? And I have no idea why you’d care about me, I don’t understand any of this. I don’t know why you want to be here so bad and why you want me to talk to you about all the shit I’ve done and all the shit that’s been done to me…so, yeah. I guess you’ve been good to me. You haven’t even tried to…” He just paused, jeweled eyes wide as if he’d been about to say a forbidden thing…then falling hard to glare at the floor in front of him.
“Tried to…what…?”
“Oh never mind…I guess I’m just surprised. You don’t seem to want anything in return except for me to speak. You…you don’t want anything more, do you?”
“Hold on, Ville. You said I’d never tried to…tried to what? Tell me what I’ve never tried.”
“Look, I already said it’s nothing...”
“Try to what?!”
“Bam…I don’t…”
“Tell me, please!”
“You wouldn’t rape me…”
“Rape you? Ville…who’s raped you? What’s going on here?”
“But…you? You wouldn’t want to do that, would you?”
“Hell no!” Yes, and my fervent reply being so much in response to the way I’d wanted to pin him to the floor all night, and take him over…even making jokes about it to myself. God knows if I’d had him underneath me for any length of time, I’d want to prod him with more than questions. Guilt raced across my cheeks like flame…I wanted to look away, but I forced my eyes to look steady into his. I had to prove to him, to myself almost, that I was true.
“God, Ville…” I really hadn’t been able to say much more than that.
“Well, I just wanted to get that completely clear. Because, if you want to…just leave me alone or get it over with. And I haven’t had a sip of vodka tonight; I’m completely serious.”
“Ville, I’m not going to rape you…I’d just like to know who has. You don’t deserve that.”
“Hmmm…What makes you so sure…that someone, that someone is doing it right now?”
“I don’t know…I didn’t know if someone was or not…are they?”
He paused for a moment, looking away. His long locks covered all of his facing, making it impossible for me to know one way or the other what he was feeling or thinking.
“Yes …”
A tiny mewling broke my thoughts. Ville walked back into room, eyes glistening liquid fire. Lightening bolts through my body. He was weeping…trying to hide it with half-closed lids, a groggy expression, down-turned face.
“B-Bam? Would it be okay if we…traded sides?” I stared at the sniffling boy…why would he want the side next to the wall…?
“Yeah, sure. Is there any particular reason why?”
“I think I’d just feel better…safer. Thanks.” God, this was the same kid who had thrown me against the bed, and who had also thrown me one acidic comment after another, all subtle enough to let you know he was capable of worse cruelty. Now, he was begging for me to be on the outside so he’d feel safer…my face softened. I simply moved to the other side of the bed, letting him climb over my legs and curl up next to me.
He began shaking, violently. He gave only a tiny choked moan, but his fingers were digging into his pillow so hard I thought his nails would poke through the fabric.
“Come here, baby.” I slip my arm around his waist, pulling him into me. I feel his body stiffen in resistance, then soften as he allows himself to sink into my embrace.
“Don’t call me ‘baby’. I already know that…I’m a baby.” Damn…I hadn’t even realized I’d given him a name other than Ville. His voice is muffled through the fabric of my shirt.
“No, I don’t mean you’re a baby! Sorry…it’s just something I say sometimes. I guess it means you’re precious to me.” I feel tentative arms slide on the pillow to encircle my neck. He is sobbing so hard I wonder if he’s able to breathe…a tremor following each breath that catches on a tear. All I can think about is how exhausted he is, for this to be his second lung-shattering cry tonight…and how if he’s going to cry like this, there would be no better place than this for me to be.
Standard commenting rules apply: PLEASE tell me if this is turning to crap! PLEASE tell me if you like it, too...because my monster is coming back...telling me I can't write worth shit...if you think she's wrong...I could always use some help. And I hate being this disgustingly insecure....:<
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Title: The Endless (yes, this title does suck, I know)
Genre and Rating: Alternative…N/R (mwahahaha)
Summary: A cynical, enslaved Ville is bound to murder one of the few males who has ever shown him tenderness.
POV: Alternating between first person Bam and first person Ville
Pairing: Vam, eventually. Then, nothing will matter but the vam.
Author’s Note: Most of the chapters have been influenced by songs. I borrow lyrics quite often.
Disclaimer: The obvious: I don’t own any of those who resemble someone in real life. Also, one of my best friends invented Kamilah. Other characters and the plotline, however, are mine.
Warning: This story may be perceived as incredibly angsty…for violence against others and the self, negative attitudes, and just sheer insanity…homicidal or otherwise.
Previous Chapters: http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/1628462.html
Chapter 17:
(Bam)
He was trying so hard to get comfortable, but I could tell every toss and turn he made caused intense pain. I felt his whole body stiffen in the bed after he’d turned away from me to lie on his left side. He’d moved away from me almost frantically when he’d felt our legs touch. I’d been almost afraid to say anything, and bad as I wanted to hold him after all I’d just seen and heard, I didn’t dare. I couldn’t let anything ruin this…
No, not after he’d looked up to me, begging me not to leave…promising he wouldn’t ‘get psychotic on me’ again…that he’d just sleep. He looked so guilty about something he claimed he couldn’t even remember doing. I’d had to explain to him what had taken place…about the way he stood over me, threw me against the bed…slipped off my shirt…how I’d let him. I’d told him about his tears, the way he shook when I told him he didn’t have to kiss me. He had only stared more and cried harder. I hadn’t bothered to mention how I’d had one of the most overwhelming hard-ons I could ever remember experiencing or how I shook so hard with fear I thought I was going to break. Some of the things he’d let slip out of his mouth after that had made me so enraged…for him. I wanted to murder the person who’d abused and scarred him…the one who kept him here and hurt him so bad…warped him into thinking he had to be this way. Of course, he wouldn’t tell me who yet, but I would just have to worry about that later.
Right now he looked so miserable…somehow managing to position himself side-ways from the waist up and apparently trying to avoid letting his legs touch the mattress…he couldn’t possibly sleep like that. I wondered if his eyes were open or shut. He stirred again, making me hold my breath anxiously.
“Um…Bam…I’ll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom, okay?” I made a groan in response, not completely aware I’d done it…not realizing he was looking to me as if he wanted some sort of approval. I’d been so busy thinking about him, I hadn’t seen the pleading eyes.
“Bam…Bam…I won’t be long,…okay?” He was supporting himself on the bed, the thin arms that appeared so frail keeping him from falling back on the mattress. I thought any minute he was about to collapse, but he stood still, slowly lifting himself away. I nodded and smiled in recognition finally…thinking maybe he was hurt bad enough for me to have to doctor him up again…but I thought maybe I’d asked enough questions for one night…and so I left it alone.
He pushed himself off the bed, moving to support his weight with the wall…trying to make his way across the room and down the hall…clamping his neck with one hand and raking his fingers across the wall with the other.
“Hey, do you need any help?” I asked loud enough for him to hear, feeling my voice echo slightly through his cavern-like room. I always felt too loud, too big…for all these delicate pretty places, these delicate pretty people…He turned to look behind him sideways, shaking his head slowly…
“No, I’m fine. I just have a bit of a headache; I need some Tylenol.” And he continued to mope down the hall until I lost sight of him. A bit worrisome, yes, but I wasn’t about to follow him around the house…It would probably do more harm than help.
I found myself looking around the darkened room…there wasn’t much else to do. It wasn’t as if I slept at night; especially tonight, with all that had happened between the time I’d come panting to his door and this moment. I couldn’t seem to put together all the things he’d said to me…I was missing something. I was missing a lot…I know there’d been so much he wouldn’t tell me…but I guess I could only hope for so much in one night.
The room seemed to have underwent some haphazard rearrangement. Furniture had been moved hastily into unsettling places, as if someone had been trying to conceal a bad spot of wall. His bed was stuffed into the far corner of the room, the head of it having been slammed against the dusky grayish wall behind it, a sharp wooden stool table being jammed up next to the bed over on his side. As a matter of fact, all that was on my side of the bed was another gray wall. I’d chosen this side of the bed fearing he’d feel trapped if I opted for the outer side, just as I had last time. If I’d realized one thing about him by now, it was that he was a lot more vulnerable than he tried to act…Oh, God-ness bless his heart…if all sarcastic, toughened people felt the way he did…then god-ness bless them too. Damn Kamilah and the words she made up; they were contagious. I just realized I’d been using ‘her word’ for quite a while now…without even acknowledging what I’d been doing…oh well. It seems recently I’d been taking credit for a lot of the things she’d made up…including our basement. I still can’t believe I’d told him that beautiful room had been my creation. What a liar. I was one big fib…he’d know I couldn’t have ever been capable of something like that if he let me hang around long enough. I could see the little heater, now at the foot of the bed, that he’d sat in front of that morning, the plug pulling tight across the entrance to a deep, mysterious closet and reaching to a socket on the opposite wall. Well, that certainly didn’t look healthy. Someone could have tripped over that, or started a fire by knocking the heater over. I guess I’d never been completely careless with all the dangerous pranks and shit I’d pulled in what might as well be my past life. I’d gotten in the habit to notice things like that…it was what had kept me alive. I guess I’d just wanted to believe my stunts were careless, but honestly I’d put a lot of caution into them. I just realized I’ve never been spontaneous…I was just really good at making it look that way. If I’d ever been as spontaneous as people thought, I would have been dead before I turned fourteen. As it came about, all that caution paid off for a pathetic ten more years.
Ville had been so nervous when I first tried to talk to him, it was like prying the lid from a shaken up bottle that was about to burst. He’d made me think of one of those cartoon characters with crosses in their eyes and their lips sewed up…completely untouchable. We’d sat there at the table for a long time just staring back at each other. His microwave meal was ready. He just sat there. I wasn’t sure what the hell to do with him that moment.
“You can eat first, you know. It’s not like I’m some reporter come to interview you. This doesn’t have to be all formal and everything.” God-ness, I’d sounded like such a kid the way I’d talked to him. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever once have the chance to really act like an adult…it was like a curse that had come with the way Ape and Phil had spoiled me so much…letting me do practically whatever I wanted. It fucking crept into the way I’d talked, even now I that I seem to be running away from all the things I used to be, I still have this spoiled brat rude little boy inside my head. I doubt he’ll ever completely get a life.
Ville snapped out of his stare, blinking twice and twitching slightly, as if he had to do this before he could function. Almost like a kitten just waking from a nap…and I wanted to slap myself in the face for thinking just how gorgeous he was, feeling that familiar burning course through my whole body, making me want to jump across the table and ravish him right there in his large cushiony chair. How long was I going to want him like this before I got some peace? It was part of that spoiled brat I’d been trying to make grow up these two years. I’d told myself before how much I just wanted to make love to him…but that had been before I’d thought about it for a whole weekend; before I’d seen him so shaken he couldn’t even stand. The boy just needed a friend, dammit. However he’d been mistreated, I wasn’t about to be the cause of more agony.
Of course, I hadn’t jumped on him as I’d been craving, but I had to get up nonetheless, if just to use some of my energy. I ended up walking across the kitchen and bringing him the food he’d failed to get, fumbling around for a few minutes trying to find the silverware drawer, and then setting his burrito, replete with fork and plate, in front of him on the table. I stood over him for a moment…making him look up at me, a look of paranoia stabbing me in the face.
“Do you want me to stay in here with you? I can go into the living room while you’re eating, if you want.”
“I don’t see that it matters a great deal…of course it I’d feel a bit strange with you just sitting doing nothing while I eat…”
“Well, that’s fine. I’ll go in there.” I walked away into the shadowed room with the couch, feeling more awkward than if I’d stayed in the kitchen…why had I even asked? Would he ever want to tell me what was going on, or would I really have to pin him to the floor? I had walked onto the white carpet of the living room, turning to look at the upstairs balcony, wondering what could be up there when a very sarcastic comment floated out of the kitchen.
“Thanks for bringing it over here…Bammie.” That didn’t sound too nice…his voice had gotten that crisp, bitter tone again. And what was with all these funny add-ons he was giving to my Official Nickname? I decided to just keep my mouth closed for awhile and wait for him to calm down… I was beginning to wonder if that ever happened. I plopped down on the couch and stared at the white walls, the chandelier seeming to dominate the entire room with its delicate, icy crystals that glittered prisms about the entire room, even in the yellow light from the bulbs in the kitchen. I could imagine it making pretty rainbows in the sunlight…but I wouldn’t see that. According to Kamilah, becoming powerful like her involved drinking from large amounts of innocent humans; I just couldn’t do it. I’d tried to get the blood I needed without hurting people; and every time I slipped up just a little bit I’d felt like doing something very violent, such as throwing up or beating my head against a wall for three days straight.
I’d been caught off guard through my pondering, as he’d managed to slip into the room without my noticing and lighting on the couch I was sitting on; he was right next to me.
“I’m sorry…”
“Sorry for what?”
“For having a smart mouth.”
“You mean, as you were ‘thanking’ me…you sarcastic little brat?”
“Yeah.”
“And why?”
“Why am I sorry?”
“Well, that’s a good start…”
“Because…because I think you’d be good to me. Hell, you’re that already. And, and I like you.” I sighed…heaved. He looked so lost. It brought me from anger and irritation to tripping all over myself with something beyond sympathy. Now I wanted to hold him close and shelter him away from all that hurt.
“W-what do you mean, I’d be good to you?”
He looked at me as if I were daft, shocked almost…and then he spoke so low he nearly whispered… “Are you completely unaware of how fucking kind you’ve been to me? And I have no idea why you’d care about me, I don’t understand any of this. I don’t know why you want to be here so bad and why you want me to talk to you about all the shit I’ve done and all the shit that’s been done to me…so, yeah. I guess you’ve been good to me. You haven’t even tried to…” He just paused, jeweled eyes wide as if he’d been about to say a forbidden thing…then falling hard to glare at the floor in front of him.
“Tried to…what…?”
“Oh never mind…I guess I’m just surprised. You don’t seem to want anything in return except for me to speak. You…you don’t want anything more, do you?”
“Hold on, Ville. You said I’d never tried to…tried to what? Tell me what I’ve never tried.”
“Look, I already said it’s nothing...”
“Try to what?!”
“Bam…I don’t…”
“Tell me, please!”
“You wouldn’t rape me…”
“Rape you? Ville…who’s raped you? What’s going on here?”
“But…you? You wouldn’t want to do that, would you?”
“Hell no!” Yes, and my fervent reply being so much in response to the way I’d wanted to pin him to the floor all night, and take him over…even making jokes about it to myself. God knows if I’d had him underneath me for any length of time, I’d want to prod him with more than questions. Guilt raced across my cheeks like flame…I wanted to look away, but I forced my eyes to look steady into his. I had to prove to him, to myself almost, that I was true.
“God, Ville…” I really hadn’t been able to say much more than that.
“Well, I just wanted to get that completely clear. Because, if you want to…just leave me alone or get it over with. And I haven’t had a sip of vodka tonight; I’m completely serious.”
“Ville, I’m not going to rape you…I’d just like to know who has. You don’t deserve that.”
“Hmmm…What makes you so sure…that someone, that someone is doing it right now?”
“I don’t know…I didn’t know if someone was or not…are they?”
He paused for a moment, looking away. His long locks covered all of his facing, making it impossible for me to know one way or the other what he was feeling or thinking.
“Yes …”
A tiny mewling broke my thoughts. Ville walked back into room, eyes glistening liquid fire. Lightening bolts through my body. He was weeping…trying to hide it with half-closed lids, a groggy expression, down-turned face.
“B-Bam? Would it be okay if we…traded sides?” I stared at the sniffling boy…why would he want the side next to the wall…?
“Yeah, sure. Is there any particular reason why?”
“I think I’d just feel better…safer. Thanks.” God, this was the same kid who had thrown me against the bed, and who had also thrown me one acidic comment after another, all subtle enough to let you know he was capable of worse cruelty. Now, he was begging for me to be on the outside so he’d feel safer…my face softened. I simply moved to the other side of the bed, letting him climb over my legs and curl up next to me.
He began shaking, violently. He gave only a tiny choked moan, but his fingers were digging into his pillow so hard I thought his nails would poke through the fabric.
“Come here, baby.” I slip my arm around his waist, pulling him into me. I feel his body stiffen in resistance, then soften as he allows himself to sink into my embrace.
“Don’t call me ‘baby’. I already know that…I’m a baby.” Damn…I hadn’t even realized I’d given him a name other than Ville. His voice is muffled through the fabric of my shirt.
“No, I don’t mean you’re a baby! Sorry…it’s just something I say sometimes. I guess it means you’re precious to me.” I feel tentative arms slide on the pillow to encircle my neck. He is sobbing so hard I wonder if he’s able to breathe…a tremor following each breath that catches on a tear. All I can think about is how exhausted he is, for this to be his second lung-shattering cry tonight…and how if he’s going to cry like this, there would be no better place than this for me to be.
Standard commenting rules apply: PLEASE tell me if this is turning to crap! PLEASE tell me if you like it, too...because my monster is coming back...telling me I can't write worth shit...if you think she's wrong...I could always use some help. And I hate being this disgustingly insecure....:<
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