Oneshot
Title: Ultimatum [1/1]
Author: Aliya
Disclaimer: DK, DO, NH. Don’t sue: it’s not very nice. Okei?
Pairing: Vam
Rating: PG-15 (a couple swears, mentions of drug use - no actual use depicted - and a central theme of substance abuse, but not quite an R)
Warnings: central themes of drug/alcohol abuse, angst
Summary: Ville gives Bam an ultimatum.
Author’s Note: This one is quite a bit more removed from “canon” as my stuff usually is, especially on Bam’s side of things. I still have taken a lot of inspiration for this from interviews and (mostly) RadioBam. But mostly I’ve been feeling angsty lately, and this idea came to mind, so I decided to post it. Please don’t hate me too much. I hope I did a half-decent job of keeping them in character. It was a huge struggle.
The second Ville checked into rehab, Bam knew that things were going to change. Ville wasn’t going to appreciate his drinking and much less his use of any other substances, at all. He was right. It took a few months for it all to come to a head, but when the shit hit the fan, it hit Bam hard.
Bam could hardly remember a time that he hadn’t been using some kind of drug, even when he was fourteen and fifteen and taking too many painkillers to be good for anyone. Since then he had done every drug he could get his hands on, with the exception of heroin. He had, at least, been smart enough to realize what it did to his Life Partner and had sworn to never touch it: no matter what.
Now Ville was asking him to never touch anything, no matter what.
Ville was standing across the kitchen from Bam. He had come down for breakfast to find Bam sitting at the table, already nursing a beer and looking through his emails. The Finn had promptly relieved Bam of the bottle and poured the liquid down the sink. The bottle, which Bam had tried to get back, was in the trash. Now Ville had situated himself in front of the fridge, which he knew to be full of alcohol, while Bam scowled at him from the kitchen table.
They stared each other down for a while before Ville spoke up.
“Tell me that was your first one this morning, because it’s nine in the fucking morning and so help me if you’ve had more,” he nearly begged of Bam. His eyes were pleading and his voice so monotone that Bam had to look away in shame.
“S-second.”
Ville didn’t react except to cross his arms. He had expected as much. Slowly, he moved closer to Bam, finally getting close enough to take the younger man’s face in his hands and turn it to look at him.
“This is going too far,” he said quietly. He could tell that Bam would have given anything to just run far, far away in that moment, and grabbed the skater’s wrist before he could do anything. Bam forced himself to not look away again or close his eyes, even though his heart was beating almost double-time in his chest. Especially when he heard the words that he dreaded most in the world:
“Kulta, you need help.”
Bam eyes widened. “What? Ville, I’m fine, I swear. I’m just stressed ou--”
“Bam!”
Bam nearly jumped when Ville raised his voice, its tone more commanding now and demanding no argument. Seeing this, Ville lowered it again, but kept his disappointed and determined gaze fixed on Bam’s face.
“That’s going to work on me about as much as Novak’s arguments convince anyone,” he told Bam. “You’ve been saying you’re just ‘stressed out’ for months now.”
“It’s only alcohol, Ville,” Bam tried to protest, but regretted the words the second they left his lips.
“It’s not only alcohol, Bam!” Ville’s voice became harsh again. “I may 'have my head in the goddamn clouds' - as you put it the other day, if you even remember - all the time, but I am not blind, nor am I stupid. Anyone who listens to the radio show knows you’re on pills, let alone people you are living with you! And what about the coke, hmm?”
At that, Bam’s eyes went wider. “But I…how do you…” he tried to string thoughts together but it wasn’t working. “It’s not my fault!”
Ville raised an eyebrow. “Who’s fucking fault is it then, Bam?”
Bam had no answer, and it showed in his face. His cheeks become coloured with a blush of embarrassment, and he tried to look away. Ville didn’t let him, though, and Bam found his head held in place by the Finn’s thin but strong fingers. Bam made due and shut his eyes tight. He knew that he wasn’t going to win, and he found himself fighting back tears.
Ville’s right, he thought as he tried to pretend that he was anywhere but there, in that moment; I’m a wreck.
Ville did nothing to urge Bam’s eyes to open, but kept speaking. “You’re a fucking mess, Bam,” he said, pity and caring painfully evident in his voice. “I hate seeing you like this. Maybe I just failed to notice it before, or maybe these…habits of yours have gotten worse over time, but…you’re not the Bam that I know. You…you’re hardly even the Bam that I love.”
He saw Bam wince, but he didn’t regret his words. He knew that Bam needed someone to talk some sense into him, and that this was what it was going to take to get through to the often thick-headed skater.
“I’m leaving soon to go back home,” he continued. “You remember that, right?” He waited until Bam nodded, eyes still shut tightly against everything that was going on, until he spoke again. “So I’m going to make you a deal. If you stay completely sober until I leave, I promise I’ll come back at Christmas, okay?”
Bam cringed, screwing up his face in an attempt to shut his eyes even tighter against his situation. His whole body just wanted to run as far away as possible, but he couldn’t have moved even if Ville wasn’t clutching his wrist to keep him in place.
“What…what if I can’t do it?” he asked fearfully.
“Then I’m not coming back.”
Bam let out a choked sob at those five words that encompassed his greatest fear in the world: Ville leaving. He opened his eyes and looked up into Ville’s sad eyes through the tears that were amassing themselves in his own baby blues. He could feel his legs go weak as the full impact of Ville’s words hit him.
Ville could tell that Bam wouldn’t stay upright much longer, so he enveloped the younger man in a tight embrace with his head resting in the crook of Bam’s neck.
“I love you so much,” he whispered softly into Bam’s ear, “and I don’t want to lose you to these things. Please. I believe in you.”
“You…believe in me?” Bam asked timidly. His tears were evident in his voice, but he was reluctant to let them fall. He hated crying as much as he hated coming down from a high.
Ville nodded. “Yes,” he said softly. “I do. I can’t stand seeing you like this anymore, Bam. It hurts: physically hurts me to watch you do things that are going to ensure that you wind up dead one morning, and I couldn’t bear that.”
Bam sniffed and buried his face in Ville’s hair, sobbing and hoping in the back of his mind that no one came in and saw him. “I love you too,” he mumbled.
Eventually, Ville pulled away and sat Bam down his chair at the table. He could hear movement from other parts of the house, and he knew that Bam would want to keep this all secret.
“No alcohol, no drugs, and not even any pills under any circumstance,” he clarified to Bam. “If not, then when I board that plane in a week and a half, I’m not coming back unless you prove to me that you can kick your habits.”
Bam hesitated for a moment, fearfully weighing his choices. The still-rational part of his brain told him that this was his “second chance”, and that there was no reason to hesitate - just agree, already! However, the addict part of him warned him of what life could be like without the safety of alcohol or drugs. In the end, though, Bam knew that life without Ville would be far worse.
“O-okay. I’ll try.”
Ville smiled and wrapped his arms around Bam again.
“I’m going to go out later today and buy you a Christmas present,” he promised.
Author: Aliya
Disclaimer: DK, DO, NH. Don’t sue: it’s not very nice. Okei?
Pairing: Vam
Rating: PG-15 (a couple swears, mentions of drug use - no actual use depicted - and a central theme of substance abuse, but not quite an R)
Warnings: central themes of drug/alcohol abuse, angst
Summary: Ville gives Bam an ultimatum.
Author’s Note: This one is quite a bit more removed from “canon” as my stuff usually is, especially on Bam’s side of things. I still have taken a lot of inspiration for this from interviews and (mostly) RadioBam. But mostly I’ve been feeling angsty lately, and this idea came to mind, so I decided to post it. Please don’t hate me too much. I hope I did a half-decent job of keeping them in character. It was a huge struggle.
The second Ville checked into rehab, Bam knew that things were going to change. Ville wasn’t going to appreciate his drinking and much less his use of any other substances, at all. He was right. It took a few months for it all to come to a head, but when the shit hit the fan, it hit Bam hard.
Bam could hardly remember a time that he hadn’t been using some kind of drug, even when he was fourteen and fifteen and taking too many painkillers to be good for anyone. Since then he had done every drug he could get his hands on, with the exception of heroin. He had, at least, been smart enough to realize what it did to his Life Partner and had sworn to never touch it: no matter what.
Now Ville was asking him to never touch anything, no matter what.
Ville was standing across the kitchen from Bam. He had come down for breakfast to find Bam sitting at the table, already nursing a beer and looking through his emails. The Finn had promptly relieved Bam of the bottle and poured the liquid down the sink. The bottle, which Bam had tried to get back, was in the trash. Now Ville had situated himself in front of the fridge, which he knew to be full of alcohol, while Bam scowled at him from the kitchen table.
They stared each other down for a while before Ville spoke up.
“Tell me that was your first one this morning, because it’s nine in the fucking morning and so help me if you’ve had more,” he nearly begged of Bam. His eyes were pleading and his voice so monotone that Bam had to look away in shame.
“S-second.”
Ville didn’t react except to cross his arms. He had expected as much. Slowly, he moved closer to Bam, finally getting close enough to take the younger man’s face in his hands and turn it to look at him.
“This is going too far,” he said quietly. He could tell that Bam would have given anything to just run far, far away in that moment, and grabbed the skater’s wrist before he could do anything. Bam forced himself to not look away again or close his eyes, even though his heart was beating almost double-time in his chest. Especially when he heard the words that he dreaded most in the world:
“Kulta, you need help.”
Bam eyes widened. “What? Ville, I’m fine, I swear. I’m just stressed ou--”
“Bam!”
Bam nearly jumped when Ville raised his voice, its tone more commanding now and demanding no argument. Seeing this, Ville lowered it again, but kept his disappointed and determined gaze fixed on Bam’s face.
“That’s going to work on me about as much as Novak’s arguments convince anyone,” he told Bam. “You’ve been saying you’re just ‘stressed out’ for months now.”
“It’s only alcohol, Ville,” Bam tried to protest, but regretted the words the second they left his lips.
“It’s not only alcohol, Bam!” Ville’s voice became harsh again. “I may 'have my head in the goddamn clouds' - as you put it the other day, if you even remember - all the time, but I am not blind, nor am I stupid. Anyone who listens to the radio show knows you’re on pills, let alone people you are living with you! And what about the coke, hmm?”
At that, Bam’s eyes went wider. “But I…how do you…” he tried to string thoughts together but it wasn’t working. “It’s not my fault!”
Ville raised an eyebrow. “Who’s fucking fault is it then, Bam?”
Bam had no answer, and it showed in his face. His cheeks become coloured with a blush of embarrassment, and he tried to look away. Ville didn’t let him, though, and Bam found his head held in place by the Finn’s thin but strong fingers. Bam made due and shut his eyes tight. He knew that he wasn’t going to win, and he found himself fighting back tears.
Ville’s right, he thought as he tried to pretend that he was anywhere but there, in that moment; I’m a wreck.
Ville did nothing to urge Bam’s eyes to open, but kept speaking. “You’re a fucking mess, Bam,” he said, pity and caring painfully evident in his voice. “I hate seeing you like this. Maybe I just failed to notice it before, or maybe these…habits of yours have gotten worse over time, but…you’re not the Bam that I know. You…you’re hardly even the Bam that I love.”
He saw Bam wince, but he didn’t regret his words. He knew that Bam needed someone to talk some sense into him, and that this was what it was going to take to get through to the often thick-headed skater.
“I’m leaving soon to go back home,” he continued. “You remember that, right?” He waited until Bam nodded, eyes still shut tightly against everything that was going on, until he spoke again. “So I’m going to make you a deal. If you stay completely sober until I leave, I promise I’ll come back at Christmas, okay?”
Bam cringed, screwing up his face in an attempt to shut his eyes even tighter against his situation. His whole body just wanted to run as far away as possible, but he couldn’t have moved even if Ville wasn’t clutching his wrist to keep him in place.
“What…what if I can’t do it?” he asked fearfully.
“Then I’m not coming back.”
Bam let out a choked sob at those five words that encompassed his greatest fear in the world: Ville leaving. He opened his eyes and looked up into Ville’s sad eyes through the tears that were amassing themselves in his own baby blues. He could feel his legs go weak as the full impact of Ville’s words hit him.
Ville could tell that Bam wouldn’t stay upright much longer, so he enveloped the younger man in a tight embrace with his head resting in the crook of Bam’s neck.
“I love you so much,” he whispered softly into Bam’s ear, “and I don’t want to lose you to these things. Please. I believe in you.”
“You…believe in me?” Bam asked timidly. His tears were evident in his voice, but he was reluctant to let them fall. He hated crying as much as he hated coming down from a high.
Ville nodded. “Yes,” he said softly. “I do. I can’t stand seeing you like this anymore, Bam. It hurts: physically hurts me to watch you do things that are going to ensure that you wind up dead one morning, and I couldn’t bear that.”
Bam sniffed and buried his face in Ville’s hair, sobbing and hoping in the back of his mind that no one came in and saw him. “I love you too,” he mumbled.
Eventually, Ville pulled away and sat Bam down his chair at the table. He could hear movement from other parts of the house, and he knew that Bam would want to keep this all secret.
“No alcohol, no drugs, and not even any pills under any circumstance,” he clarified to Bam. “If not, then when I board that plane in a week and a half, I’m not coming back unless you prove to me that you can kick your habits.”
Bam hesitated for a moment, fearfully weighing his choices. The still-rational part of his brain told him that this was his “second chance”, and that there was no reason to hesitate - just agree, already! However, the addict part of him warned him of what life could be like without the safety of alcohol or drugs. In the end, though, Bam knew that life without Ville would be far worse.
“O-okay. I’ll try.”
Ville smiled and wrapped his arms around Bam again.
“I’m going to go out later today and buy you a Christmas present,” he promised.