(no subject)
Do It Like A Whore (Just Business) Chapter 23
Author: war_of_ataraxis
Pairing: Ville/Bam
Rating: Varying
Summary: Ville is a street whore, running low on business for the night, when a cute guy in a nice car offers to pay him for his company. Ville accepts, and goes home with him - how much does this cute stranger have in mind, and how much is Ville willing to give?
Disclaimer: Do not own, don't sue me, I have no money, and god knows there are better things to arrest me for.
Previous chapters and writing archive found at love_sex_angst
I stammered, I couldn't really think of any excuse to get out of this one. "I - uh..."
He quirked an eyebrow at me. "What the hell is up with you? You're getting all red ‘n shit..."
To distract myself I took a huge swig of my beer. "I just. I haven't had the best past," I muttered quietly. "It's been full of shit. I'd rather not talk about it."
"Ah... okay," he still looked confused and slightly inquisitive, but he didn't really say anything else; I figured I was safe from the questioning at least for now, until I saw something else brewing behind his light colored eyes.
"So, you're living here, and not working? You're just letting him take care of you? Don't you think that's a little messed up?"
My heart sunk at his blunt words as his eyes bore into me, even glazed over slightly from the few beers he'd drank. He wasn't drunk, and there was very little chance he'd forget this conversation, no matter what I said.
"I - he ... I... don't know."
"You think you're the first person to let him take care of them? To just live up in his house, and not give him anything back, except for maybe sex?" These words, in particular, stung.
"It's just kinda messed up, and he may not care, but I do. That's using him - he's my best friend and I don't appreciate that kinda shit."
My mouth was falling open, and my hands were becoming sweaty against the bottle I grasped. But the worst part of all was the fact that his words were making sense.
"I know he probably said he loves you, and he probably does, but... Bam's that type of guy. He'll take care of you, and he'll be happy about it - he'll just fucking ignore everything else. That's what happened with his last girlfriend, and fuck, I don't want anything like that to happen to him. I'm not gonna let it."
His eyes were now burning into me, and I could almost sense the sudden anger that was brewing in him; maybe it was sudden, or maybe I just hadn't noticed it before, but I was practically burning inside from shame.
"I - " I tried again but he shook his head, downing the rest of his beer.
"Just fuck it man," he muttered, standing up. "It's nothing against you personally, and I'm not saying you're like them. But, I'd rather not chance it." He started toward the door and I only watched him, thoughts drowned in the sounds of the TV that until now hadn't even been noticed. I heard his car start in the driveway, and the sound of him backing out.
Only a fleeting thought crawled through my self-pitying mind of whether or not he would make it home after drinking, but I'd been in the car with people far worse than him who had made it home just fine - unfortunately.
But really, I didn't care about any of that; I was too sucked into my own thoughts, too worried by his words.
Was I using Bam?
I loved him.
I thought I loved him. Maybe I was just using him to escape my shitty life.
Maybe Ryan was right. This was wrong, he was taking care of me and I wasn't giving him anything back - not even sex.
I could feel the beginnings of a panic attack taking over as my breaths shortened and my mind raced, tears coming to my eyes.
Fuck, how could I do this to someone? How could I burden someone with... me?
Frantic thoughts raced through my mind, and the sudden want to talk to Bam, be reassured took over, only to be followed by the horrid fact he wasn't here, and I couldn't call him. He was probably busy, he probably didn't want to be bothered.
Who would want to be bothered by someone like me?
I was just using him. I hadn't meant to. But... Ryan was right. I was fucking using him, and I was a horrible person.
Ignoring my shallow breaths I headed for the stairs, tearing off the shirt Bam had bought me, reaching for the button on the pants that he had bought me as well.
I would give them all back.
I would give everything back and just leave.
I wouldn't use him anymore. I couldn't use him anymore. I loved him, and I couldn't do that.
He was better off without me; he needed someone that could support themselves and not just live off of him.
I tore the clothes from my body, laying them on his bed as I began to frantically search for the clothes I'd shown up in. I finally found the clothes tucked in the very back of the bottom drawer, pulling them on, ignoring the discomfort from the ill-fitting fabric. I'd gained weight from the food he'd given me, and the thought only added to my realization of just how much he had given me.
I contemplated leaving a note, but I doubted that I would be able to even write my garbled English in the state I was in. I could still barely breathe, wheezing as I left anything that he had bought me behind. The watch he'd let me borrow, given me really without reason, the thing silver necklace, even the socks. I didn't want to have been a burden to him in any way that I could erase.
I could only hope that he would forget me easily.
I found my sure footing finally as I headed down the steps, just as the phone began to ring down the hall in the living room.
I stopped suddenly, my lungs stopping their work all together as it rang two, three times; I just stood still, listening to the rings.
I knew it was Bam, and half of me wanted to race to it, ask him if he really wanted me to stay, to tell him all the things that Ryan had told me, said to me, made me think about. I didn't want to leave, I wanted him to tell me to stay, but at the same time. I wished he was here, but he wasn't, he was on the other end of the telephone I couldn't quite bring myself to run to and pick up.
No... just leave, Ville, just fucking leave.
So I did, ignoring the fifth and final ring, I spun on my heel and headed toward the door, flinging it open and closing it behind me as I headed out into the slightly chilly air. Pausing at the end of his driveway and realizing I had little or no clue on how to get back to town, to anywhere really, I just picked a direction and ran.
I ran from everything that I was harming, everyone that I was using; I ran to save them from me and all my burdens. I ran from my guilt, even though I knew it was still following close behind for how long I had lingered.
I only hoped he could forgive me.
Yeah, its overly dramatic, my Ville is bipolar, and my Ryan is a jackass. But you know what? You read it didn't you? I love writing drama, but don't worry, there will be more to it than this. Don't be too discouraged, though I'm definitely not promising happy endings (or an update all too quickly - school and working about 25 hours a week is rather draining)
Leave reviews and tell me to stop being an overdramatic bitch, will ya?
Author: war_of_ataraxis
Pairing: Ville/Bam
Rating: Varying
Summary: Ville is a street whore, running low on business for the night, when a cute guy in a nice car offers to pay him for his company. Ville accepts, and goes home with him - how much does this cute stranger have in mind, and how much is Ville willing to give?
Disclaimer: Do not own, don't sue me, I have no money, and god knows there are better things to arrest me for.
Previous chapters and writing archive found at love_sex_angst
I stammered, I couldn't really think of any excuse to get out of this one. "I - uh..."
He quirked an eyebrow at me. "What the hell is up with you? You're getting all red ‘n shit..."
To distract myself I took a huge swig of my beer. "I just. I haven't had the best past," I muttered quietly. "It's been full of shit. I'd rather not talk about it."
"Ah... okay," he still looked confused and slightly inquisitive, but he didn't really say anything else; I figured I was safe from the questioning at least for now, until I saw something else brewing behind his light colored eyes.
"So, you're living here, and not working? You're just letting him take care of you? Don't you think that's a little messed up?"
My heart sunk at his blunt words as his eyes bore into me, even glazed over slightly from the few beers he'd drank. He wasn't drunk, and there was very little chance he'd forget this conversation, no matter what I said.
"I - he ... I... don't know."
"You think you're the first person to let him take care of them? To just live up in his house, and not give him anything back, except for maybe sex?" These words, in particular, stung.
"It's just kinda messed up, and he may not care, but I do. That's using him - he's my best friend and I don't appreciate that kinda shit."
My mouth was falling open, and my hands were becoming sweaty against the bottle I grasped. But the worst part of all was the fact that his words were making sense.
"I know he probably said he loves you, and he probably does, but... Bam's that type of guy. He'll take care of you, and he'll be happy about it - he'll just fucking ignore everything else. That's what happened with his last girlfriend, and fuck, I don't want anything like that to happen to him. I'm not gonna let it."
His eyes were now burning into me, and I could almost sense the sudden anger that was brewing in him; maybe it was sudden, or maybe I just hadn't noticed it before, but I was practically burning inside from shame.
"I - " I tried again but he shook his head, downing the rest of his beer.
"Just fuck it man," he muttered, standing up. "It's nothing against you personally, and I'm not saying you're like them. But, I'd rather not chance it." He started toward the door and I only watched him, thoughts drowned in the sounds of the TV that until now hadn't even been noticed. I heard his car start in the driveway, and the sound of him backing out.
Only a fleeting thought crawled through my self-pitying mind of whether or not he would make it home after drinking, but I'd been in the car with people far worse than him who had made it home just fine - unfortunately.
But really, I didn't care about any of that; I was too sucked into my own thoughts, too worried by his words.
Was I using Bam?
I loved him.
I thought I loved him. Maybe I was just using him to escape my shitty life.
Maybe Ryan was right. This was wrong, he was taking care of me and I wasn't giving him anything back - not even sex.
I could feel the beginnings of a panic attack taking over as my breaths shortened and my mind raced, tears coming to my eyes.
Fuck, how could I do this to someone? How could I burden someone with... me?
Frantic thoughts raced through my mind, and the sudden want to talk to Bam, be reassured took over, only to be followed by the horrid fact he wasn't here, and I couldn't call him. He was probably busy, he probably didn't want to be bothered.
Who would want to be bothered by someone like me?
I was just using him. I hadn't meant to. But... Ryan was right. I was fucking using him, and I was a horrible person.
Ignoring my shallow breaths I headed for the stairs, tearing off the shirt Bam had bought me, reaching for the button on the pants that he had bought me as well.
I would give them all back.
I would give everything back and just leave.
I wouldn't use him anymore. I couldn't use him anymore. I loved him, and I couldn't do that.
He was better off without me; he needed someone that could support themselves and not just live off of him.
I tore the clothes from my body, laying them on his bed as I began to frantically search for the clothes I'd shown up in. I finally found the clothes tucked in the very back of the bottom drawer, pulling them on, ignoring the discomfort from the ill-fitting fabric. I'd gained weight from the food he'd given me, and the thought only added to my realization of just how much he had given me.
I contemplated leaving a note, but I doubted that I would be able to even write my garbled English in the state I was in. I could still barely breathe, wheezing as I left anything that he had bought me behind. The watch he'd let me borrow, given me really without reason, the thing silver necklace, even the socks. I didn't want to have been a burden to him in any way that I could erase.
I could only hope that he would forget me easily.
I found my sure footing finally as I headed down the steps, just as the phone began to ring down the hall in the living room.
I stopped suddenly, my lungs stopping their work all together as it rang two, three times; I just stood still, listening to the rings.
I knew it was Bam, and half of me wanted to race to it, ask him if he really wanted me to stay, to tell him all the things that Ryan had told me, said to me, made me think about. I didn't want to leave, I wanted him to tell me to stay, but at the same time. I wished he was here, but he wasn't, he was on the other end of the telephone I couldn't quite bring myself to run to and pick up.
No... just leave, Ville, just fucking leave.
So I did, ignoring the fifth and final ring, I spun on my heel and headed toward the door, flinging it open and closing it behind me as I headed out into the slightly chilly air. Pausing at the end of his driveway and realizing I had little or no clue on how to get back to town, to anywhere really, I just picked a direction and ran.
I ran from everything that I was harming, everyone that I was using; I ran to save them from me and all my burdens. I ran from my guilt, even though I knew it was still following close behind for how long I had lingered.
I only hoped he could forgive me.
Yeah, its overly dramatic, my Ville is bipolar, and my Ryan is a jackass. But you know what? You read it didn't you? I love writing drama, but don't worry, there will be more to it than this. Don't be too discouraged, though I'm definitely not promising happy endings (or an update all too quickly - school and working about 25 hours a week is rather draining)
Leave reviews and tell me to stop being an overdramatic bitch, will ya?