the__hollow
in
__vam
(no subject)
I be a brand new member! and since I wrote my first story for these two boys yesterday.. I'm posting it here :D I feel so bad for not having noticed their love sooner.
There's never been enough words for Ville to describe how he feels. When he was younger it was easier. If he was angry it was: take, throw, smash, break. If he was sad it was: cry, pout, sniffle, and wait. If he was happy, it was a big smile that lit up his face and a sloppy kiss on your cheek. If he was impatient it was a stamp of his feet. But now that he's older, Ville finds that some of those methods won't still work, so he transfers his feelings into songs.
Ville writes songs about love with the passion of a man who's been brushed by love one too many times. He writes songs about heartbreak as if his heart will really stop one day with the pain and then he moves on. None of these songs make him happy. They sound great and he loves to sing them once they've been completed but.. none of his songs about love makes him feel as though he really knows what love means.
So he thinks this over night after night and tries to discover what's missing. He's sure that he's been in love, those relationships had to be love to have left him hurting so. But then he looks in the mirror and stops. His face doesn't show the fact that he's been in love or that he's been out of it as many times. His face shows nothing. It makes his stomach recoil.
Ville has heard people say that he must have poured all his feelings into his songs because he really is an unfeeling bitch. It never bothers him when he hears it because those people don't know him and who really gives a fuck about what they say? But now in front of his mirror he can't help but remember and wonder if it's true. So he looks away and decides that that mirror must go down before turning and throwing himself into bed.
*
In the morning it's as if everything's changed. Not in the catastrophic sense but in a much smaller way. Things look different to him, much grimer than they ever have before. He stares as a passing dog barks furiously at him and represses the urge to kick it. It's not the dog really, but the whole day in general that makes Ville's lips curl and his pace quicken. As he's walking over Ville sees people, friends, look away. And he glowers and thinks, 'Well fine'.
When a guy tries hanging out with them after one of the shows that night, Ville makes a face and thinks of how it must be another of those kids looking for a free beer. He doesn't give the boy the time of the day but tosses the bottle in his hands at the approaching stranger's feet. And he walks off, leaving it up to his band mates to make his apologies. Because Ville doesn't apologize to nobodies and even if he did, this just isn't the right day.
*
He doesn't question it when people start avoiding him. He knows he's changed and that's that. Instead of going to hang out with old friends he simply stays home and pours his emotions into paper. It turns into a routine where he writes, eats, shits, and then curls up in bed on top of the covers, always staring at the world out of drooped eyelids. He ends up with a look of a person always just waking up and prides himself in it, padding around his house barefoot all the while perfecting his look.
If he doesn't pick up the phone it's because he doesn't need to hear people telling him that he's retreating from the world and should come out and play. Ville knows that he's left everyone. But he's grown tired of them, grown tired of everything and frankly doesn't care to go back. So he unplugs the phone rather than let it ring and starts adding painting to his routine as he starts changing the colors of the rooms. In no time at all the place has changed drastically and that's the way Ville likes it.
*
He doesn't anticipate someone trying to break into his haven to find him. He hears the knocks of his friends all the time and tunes them out. But one night it's not the sound of a knock he hears but the door swinging open and his eyes widen for the first time in months.
*
Bam doesn't know what he's doing when he opens Ville's door. There's just a feeling of need. He has to see the man that's intrigued him from the moment he set eyes on him onstage. It's not the pull on his stomach that he remembers. It's the sensation of losing all sense of place and time while watching Ville's pale body jerk around on stage. Ville's a puppet on strings when he's dancing and it would have been hilarious if Bam hadn't been so fucking turned on.
So he had gone backstage to meet Ville and ended up with a bottle of wine crashing at his feet. It hadn't been the red pooling liquid that had made his body shake. No, that had been the sight of Ville walking away without a second glance at him. The rest of the Finnish band had given him awkward smiles and bought him a beer without a word but it hadn't made up for the fact that their singer was gone. Bam had gone home disappointed but he had woke up knowing that he had to come back.
And he had. He had come back and found that the band was on the verge of breaking up and that Ville had become a hermit, holed up in his house. Bam had knocked the door with a different friend of the singer's day after day and each day the knocks went unanswered. After a time, Bam knew that if he wanted to see Ville before he went home again, something had to happen and it had to happen soon.
*
Ville made his way out of the room with a swagger and bottle of gin. There was no one in the hall but then he hadn't really expected there to be. Decisons had never been Ville's strong point so instead of standing around to think of what he should do Ville put one foot in front of the other and walked. He felt almost stupid walking around his house clutching his bottle so tightly his knuckles were paler than usual but he had heard the door open. So Ville kept going in a small circuit around the first floor until he finally turned and saw him.
*
Bam's first impression of Ville offstage would be that the days inside had made Ville paler than he used to be. The second was that Ville's lips were right now the reddest he had ever seen. There was no third impression because at that moment Bam moved forward and wrapped his arms around the singer's waist, locking lips.
*
If Ville had once thought about smashing that bottle of gin across the intruder's head, that thought was forgotten. He wasn't impressed with Bam's looks at first sight but keeping his eyes open as they kissed Ville saw that the boy's looks were much finer than he had first gathered. So he didn't break the kiss, feeling a pull in his stomach as Bam's eyelashes fluttered against his cheek.
Bam tasted of sweat, dirt, and a metallic taste that Ville couldn't place. The name was there in the back of his head but never moving forward enough to let him remember. So instead Ville moves his hands to rest on Bam's arms and kissed like a thirsty man in the middle of the blazing desert. It wasn't a good kiss. It wasn't a bad kiss. But it was the kiss that woke him up and gave him the power to express himself without words again.
*
If Ville is a beast, then Bam must surely be his prince.
*
There's never been enough words for Ville to describe how he feels. When he was younger it was easier. If he was angry it was: take, throw, smash, break. If he was sad it was: cry, pout, sniffle, and wait. If he was happy, it was a big smile that lit up his face and a sloppy kiss on your cheek. If he was impatient it was a stamp of his feet. But now that he's older, Ville finds that some of those methods won't still work, so he transfers his feelings into songs.
Ville writes songs about love with the passion of a man who's been brushed by love one too many times. He writes songs about heartbreak as if his heart will really stop one day with the pain and then he moves on. None of these songs make him happy. They sound great and he loves to sing them once they've been completed but.. none of his songs about love makes him feel as though he really knows what love means.
So he thinks this over night after night and tries to discover what's missing. He's sure that he's been in love, those relationships had to be love to have left him hurting so. But then he looks in the mirror and stops. His face doesn't show the fact that he's been in love or that he's been out of it as many times. His face shows nothing. It makes his stomach recoil.
Ville has heard people say that he must have poured all his feelings into his songs because he really is an unfeeling bitch. It never bothers him when he hears it because those people don't know him and who really gives a fuck about what they say? But now in front of his mirror he can't help but remember and wonder if it's true. So he looks away and decides that that mirror must go down before turning and throwing himself into bed.
*
In the morning it's as if everything's changed. Not in the catastrophic sense but in a much smaller way. Things look different to him, much grimer than they ever have before. He stares as a passing dog barks furiously at him and represses the urge to kick it. It's not the dog really, but the whole day in general that makes Ville's lips curl and his pace quicken. As he's walking over Ville sees people, friends, look away. And he glowers and thinks, 'Well fine'.
When a guy tries hanging out with them after one of the shows that night, Ville makes a face and thinks of how it must be another of those kids looking for a free beer. He doesn't give the boy the time of the day but tosses the bottle in his hands at the approaching stranger's feet. And he walks off, leaving it up to his band mates to make his apologies. Because Ville doesn't apologize to nobodies and even if he did, this just isn't the right day.
*
He doesn't question it when people start avoiding him. He knows he's changed and that's that. Instead of going to hang out with old friends he simply stays home and pours his emotions into paper. It turns into a routine where he writes, eats, shits, and then curls up in bed on top of the covers, always staring at the world out of drooped eyelids. He ends up with a look of a person always just waking up and prides himself in it, padding around his house barefoot all the while perfecting his look.
If he doesn't pick up the phone it's because he doesn't need to hear people telling him that he's retreating from the world and should come out and play. Ville knows that he's left everyone. But he's grown tired of them, grown tired of everything and frankly doesn't care to go back. So he unplugs the phone rather than let it ring and starts adding painting to his routine as he starts changing the colors of the rooms. In no time at all the place has changed drastically and that's the way Ville likes it.
*
He doesn't anticipate someone trying to break into his haven to find him. He hears the knocks of his friends all the time and tunes them out. But one night it's not the sound of a knock he hears but the door swinging open and his eyes widen for the first time in months.
*
Bam doesn't know what he's doing when he opens Ville's door. There's just a feeling of need. He has to see the man that's intrigued him from the moment he set eyes on him onstage. It's not the pull on his stomach that he remembers. It's the sensation of losing all sense of place and time while watching Ville's pale body jerk around on stage. Ville's a puppet on strings when he's dancing and it would have been hilarious if Bam hadn't been so fucking turned on.
So he had gone backstage to meet Ville and ended up with a bottle of wine crashing at his feet. It hadn't been the red pooling liquid that had made his body shake. No, that had been the sight of Ville walking away without a second glance at him. The rest of the Finnish band had given him awkward smiles and bought him a beer without a word but it hadn't made up for the fact that their singer was gone. Bam had gone home disappointed but he had woke up knowing that he had to come back.
And he had. He had come back and found that the band was on the verge of breaking up and that Ville had become a hermit, holed up in his house. Bam had knocked the door with a different friend of the singer's day after day and each day the knocks went unanswered. After a time, Bam knew that if he wanted to see Ville before he went home again, something had to happen and it had to happen soon.
*
Ville made his way out of the room with a swagger and bottle of gin. There was no one in the hall but then he hadn't really expected there to be. Decisons had never been Ville's strong point so instead of standing around to think of what he should do Ville put one foot in front of the other and walked. He felt almost stupid walking around his house clutching his bottle so tightly his knuckles were paler than usual but he had heard the door open. So Ville kept going in a small circuit around the first floor until he finally turned and saw him.
*
Bam's first impression of Ville offstage would be that the days inside had made Ville paler than he used to be. The second was that Ville's lips were right now the reddest he had ever seen. There was no third impression because at that moment Bam moved forward and wrapped his arms around the singer's waist, locking lips.
*
If Ville had once thought about smashing that bottle of gin across the intruder's head, that thought was forgotten. He wasn't impressed with Bam's looks at first sight but keeping his eyes open as they kissed Ville saw that the boy's looks were much finer than he had first gathered. So he didn't break the kiss, feeling a pull in his stomach as Bam's eyelashes fluttered against his cheek.
Bam tasted of sweat, dirt, and a metallic taste that Ville couldn't place. The name was there in the back of his head but never moving forward enough to let him remember. So instead Ville moves his hands to rest on Bam's arms and kissed like a thirsty man in the middle of the blazing desert. It wasn't a good kiss. It wasn't a bad kiss. But it was the kiss that woke him up and gave him the power to express himself without words again.
*
If Ville is a beast, then Bam must surely be his prince.
*