Insomnia: chapter 7
Title: Insomnia
Author: heartagramrose
Pairing: vam
Rating: PG-13 (mild swearing)
Disclaimer: it's fanFICTION, darlings. Therefore, I own nothing.
Word Count: approx. 1,200
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in updates, but I was gone all day Friday (literally from 11 am to about midnight, and then I crashed into bed) and running around all of today trying to do ten things at once. I know I promised a chapter a day, and am going to do what I can rise to that challenge.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Ville woke from his nap in mid-afternoon. After a quick shower, he dressed and called Gas to tell him that he was going over to Linde's. According to both Gas and Burton, it was Linde who had started all of this. The drummer then proceeded to add that he was tired of trying to get Mige and Linde to end their argument, and that "Janne's already sick of them; he has since he got caught by Linde's punch, which, by the way, was meant for Mikko. Either they stop acting like children and work this out, or we've all got a rather big problem on our hands, Ville."
By the time the drummer was finished his lengthy rant, Ville was already on his way and halfway to the house Linde shared with his girlfriend, Manna. It was a few streets out of the center or Helsinki, and about five blocks from Ville's apartment. Ville knocked on the plain door, and it was answered by a very upset-looking Linde.
"So Gas has handed this over to you, then, Ville?" he said, standing in the doorway wth his arms folded.
"It was my own decision, Mikko. Are you going to let me in?"
Linde didn't move for a moment, but in the end he stepped back and let Ville into the house. The singer stepped inside and followed his friend to the living room, where they sat on opposite ends of the couch. Ville sighed.
"Right. Now, what the fuck did he do that you're so pissed off? Well?"
"He thought it would be funny to fuck around with my Les Paul, not tell me, then hide the guitar so I would think I misplaced it. I don't misplace guitars, Ville, and when I finally found the damned thing, it was out of tune, a string is cut, and god knows what else he's done to it."
"For no reason," Ville raised an eyebrow at the guitarist. He didn't blame Linde for being upset at Mige, but he knew that Mige wouldn't do that for no reason.
Linde didn't answer for a moment. "Well, no," he admitted slowly. "But all I said was..."
"Was what, Mikko? Stop being a child and tell me what's going on."
Linde's voice dropped to a whisper. "All I said was he needed to not be so possessive about me spending time with Manna - I'm not one of his bass guitars, and I'm not with him anymore."
Ville sunk into the couch. So that was what was really going on. A couple years ago, Mige and Linde had been...together. More than fuck-buddies but less than boyfriends. Linde had met Manna, and that was more or less the end of it. But that didn't stop Mige from still wanting Linde back.
"He won't tell me what he did to fuck it up, and I'm not speaking to him again until he fixes it, or tells me what he did so I can fix it. I'm not spending hours and hours trying to fix every little thing. And he owes me a new string."
Ville wasn't sure what to say. Linde's argument was perfectly valid. He sighed.
"Can't you do what you can to fix it?" he suggested. "It won't take that long, I'm sure, and you can buy your own string. Just give him the bill and make him pay you back for it, if you're that upset."
"Yes, but it's never going to be the same, Ville! And he had no right to mess with it in the first place!" Linde's voice was back to it's normal volume, if not even louder.
Ville spotted Manna pass by the room and give him a sympathetic look as if to say "I don't envy you". He gave her a look that, in turn, said "I don't blame you: I know what he's like". And Ville did. When it came to Linde and his guitars, you didn't mess with them. It was just one of those things you don't do, like poking your fingers through the bars of a lion's cage at the zoo: it was a really dumb thing to do. Well, he thought, at least Mige had enough sense to fuck with Linde's Les Paul and not a guitar that Linde used on a daily basis. It was still a rather - no, scratch that, a very - dumb thing to do.
It was another hour that Ville was sitting with Linde, trying to persuade the guitar player to just talk to Mige, but to no avail. Eventually, he stood and said goodbye, and left the house no less exasperated with the situation that he had been to begin with. Still, he knew that everything was up to him, now. Burton wanted nothing to do with the argument anymore, Gas was fed up after only two days of being in-between, and Ville could tell that Linde and Mige weren't going to settle this by themselves in a civilized way.
So now he was off to talk to the other half of the problem: Mige.
--
"Rise and shine, Bam Bam!"
Bam groaned and hid his head under a pillow. It felt like he had just closed his eyes, and he wouldn' be surprised if that was actually the case. He had made it to bed sometime just before one, after getting off the phone with Ville and deciding that a shower would do him some good. Afterwards, he had laid in bed for what seemed to be hours on end, listening to the silence in the house. And boy, had it been silent. Novak was still off god-knows-where (probably Baltimore, Bam thought darkly), no one else was staying in the house, and worst of all, the bed beside him was silent. No quiet whisperings or even breathing could be heard.
Eventually he must have fallen asleep, because one must fall asleep in order to be woken up by loud obnoxious banging of pots and pans. Next thing he knew, his pillow was pulled away from him and his sheets were, too. Without another choice, Bam sat up and glared tiredly at his three alarm clocks: his brother, Ryan, and Dico.
"What?" he growled, still glaring.
"We're going on a road trip to prevent you from locking yourself away in your room," said Dico.
"So get your ass out of bed and get dressed," Ryan added.
Bam looked between the three of them, trying to figure out whose idea it had been. Finally, he gave up and asked.
"Mine," said Jess. "Because I know that you need to keep yourself drunk and busy for the next week. And a road trip to LA should do just that."
Bam groaned. But, despite what the logical and small not-sleep-deprived part of his brain was telling him, he agreed to go.
Author: heartagramrose
Pairing: vam
Rating: PG-13 (mild swearing)
Disclaimer: it's fanFICTION, darlings. Therefore, I own nothing.
Word Count: approx. 1,200
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in updates, but I was gone all day Friday (literally from 11 am to about midnight, and then I crashed into bed) and running around all of today trying to do ten things at once. I know I promised a chapter a day, and am going to do what I can rise to that challenge.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Ville woke from his nap in mid-afternoon. After a quick shower, he dressed and called Gas to tell him that he was going over to Linde's. According to both Gas and Burton, it was Linde who had started all of this. The drummer then proceeded to add that he was tired of trying to get Mige and Linde to end their argument, and that "Janne's already sick of them; he has since he got caught by Linde's punch, which, by the way, was meant for Mikko. Either they stop acting like children and work this out, or we've all got a rather big problem on our hands, Ville."
By the time the drummer was finished his lengthy rant, Ville was already on his way and halfway to the house Linde shared with his girlfriend, Manna. It was a few streets out of the center or Helsinki, and about five blocks from Ville's apartment. Ville knocked on the plain door, and it was answered by a very upset-looking Linde.
"So Gas has handed this over to you, then, Ville?" he said, standing in the doorway wth his arms folded.
"It was my own decision, Mikko. Are you going to let me in?"
Linde didn't move for a moment, but in the end he stepped back and let Ville into the house. The singer stepped inside and followed his friend to the living room, where they sat on opposite ends of the couch. Ville sighed.
"Right. Now, what the fuck did he do that you're so pissed off? Well?"
"He thought it would be funny to fuck around with my Les Paul, not tell me, then hide the guitar so I would think I misplaced it. I don't misplace guitars, Ville, and when I finally found the damned thing, it was out of tune, a string is cut, and god knows what else he's done to it."
"For no reason," Ville raised an eyebrow at the guitarist. He didn't blame Linde for being upset at Mige, but he knew that Mige wouldn't do that for no reason.
Linde didn't answer for a moment. "Well, no," he admitted slowly. "But all I said was..."
"Was what, Mikko? Stop being a child and tell me what's going on."
Linde's voice dropped to a whisper. "All I said was he needed to not be so possessive about me spending time with Manna - I'm not one of his bass guitars, and I'm not with him anymore."
Ville sunk into the couch. So that was what was really going on. A couple years ago, Mige and Linde had been...together. More than fuck-buddies but less than boyfriends. Linde had met Manna, and that was more or less the end of it. But that didn't stop Mige from still wanting Linde back.
"He won't tell me what he did to fuck it up, and I'm not speaking to him again until he fixes it, or tells me what he did so I can fix it. I'm not spending hours and hours trying to fix every little thing. And he owes me a new string."
Ville wasn't sure what to say. Linde's argument was perfectly valid. He sighed.
"Can't you do what you can to fix it?" he suggested. "It won't take that long, I'm sure, and you can buy your own string. Just give him the bill and make him pay you back for it, if you're that upset."
"Yes, but it's never going to be the same, Ville! And he had no right to mess with it in the first place!" Linde's voice was back to it's normal volume, if not even louder.
Ville spotted Manna pass by the room and give him a sympathetic look as if to say "I don't envy you". He gave her a look that, in turn, said "I don't blame you: I know what he's like". And Ville did. When it came to Linde and his guitars, you didn't mess with them. It was just one of those things you don't do, like poking your fingers through the bars of a lion's cage at the zoo: it was a really dumb thing to do. Well, he thought, at least Mige had enough sense to fuck with Linde's Les Paul and not a guitar that Linde used on a daily basis. It was still a rather - no, scratch that, a very - dumb thing to do.
It was another hour that Ville was sitting with Linde, trying to persuade the guitar player to just talk to Mige, but to no avail. Eventually, he stood and said goodbye, and left the house no less exasperated with the situation that he had been to begin with. Still, he knew that everything was up to him, now. Burton wanted nothing to do with the argument anymore, Gas was fed up after only two days of being in-between, and Ville could tell that Linde and Mige weren't going to settle this by themselves in a civilized way.
So now he was off to talk to the other half of the problem: Mige.
--
"Rise and shine, Bam Bam!"
Bam groaned and hid his head under a pillow. It felt like he had just closed his eyes, and he wouldn' be surprised if that was actually the case. He had made it to bed sometime just before one, after getting off the phone with Ville and deciding that a shower would do him some good. Afterwards, he had laid in bed for what seemed to be hours on end, listening to the silence in the house. And boy, had it been silent. Novak was still off god-knows-where (probably Baltimore, Bam thought darkly), no one else was staying in the house, and worst of all, the bed beside him was silent. No quiet whisperings or even breathing could be heard.
Eventually he must have fallen asleep, because one must fall asleep in order to be woken up by loud obnoxious banging of pots and pans. Next thing he knew, his pillow was pulled away from him and his sheets were, too. Without another choice, Bam sat up and glared tiredly at his three alarm clocks: his brother, Ryan, and Dico.
"What?" he growled, still glaring.
"We're going on a road trip to prevent you from locking yourself away in your room," said Dico.
"So get your ass out of bed and get dressed," Ryan added.
Bam looked between the three of them, trying to figure out whose idea it had been. Finally, he gave up and asked.
"Mine," said Jess. "Because I know that you need to keep yourself drunk and busy for the next week. And a road trip to LA should do just that."
Bam groaned. But, despite what the logical and small not-sleep-deprived part of his brain was telling him, he agreed to go.