Dyatlov Pass Sequel - All Our Passing Nights [Chapter 4/?]
Title: Dyatlov Pass - All Our Passing Nights.
Author: x_carnivale_x
Pairing: Bam/Ville, et all.
Rating: R/NC17. for mentions of sex, violence, gore, and horror.
Summary: That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons, even death may die.
Author's Notes: Whoop! Another chapter, I'm on a roll. In this chapter, Bam finally gets to go to Ville's grave, along with reluctantly returning to Ville's house. He also has his second dream.
Previous Chapters: Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three //
For those that want to read the original story, here is a link to the full story. [Starts at the last chapter, all previous chapters are linked.]
Dyatlov Pass - The Original
Bam sat quietly on the ground cross-legged. The grass was dry - dead and prickly, but he tried not to pay it any mind. He stared straight ahead and tried to ignore how the wind was causing his steadily lengthening hair to brush into his eyes. He still needed to get it cut. At least he'd shaved. He blinked heavily and stared at the headstone. It was simple - no elaborate angels or lambs sculpted or carved onto it. Merely words and dates - a name. His name.
Ville Hermani Valo.
November 22, 1976 - October 29, 2008.
That is not dead
Which can eternal lie.
And with strange aeons
Even death may die.
He sighed quietly, letting his fingers fiddle with the dogtags laced around his neck. It was quite for a moment, but he suddenly heard footsteps padding gently towards him, but he didn't bother to look up. There were legs standing to his right. He didn't say anything, just dropped his eyes slightly away from the headstone. He heard the person next to him sigh and Bam just stayed quiet.
"It's a lovely spot, isn't it?" Linde mumbled.
Bam glanced upwards, letting his eyes move across the landscape. The sun was out today, but it was cold. There was a willow tree a few feet from Ville's plot; it would have been beautiful, he thought, but it was November now and the leaves were gone, the branches thin and brittle. Bam swallowed thickly. Ville always loved willow trees.
"It's nice." He mumbled sadly. They were quiet for a moment before Bam looked up at Linde. "You used his favorite quote."
"We thought it fit nicely."
"It's beautiful." Bam let his voice soften and his eyes lower and he ran his fingers through his hair gingerly. Linde just eased down next to him, sitting lightly on the grass, legs bent, his arms wrapped around his knees. Their voices quieted, merely whispers, barely enough to grace over the calm cemetery.
"I'm sorry you couldn't be here when..."
"I understand."
"If we could have waited, we would have... You know that, right?"
"I know." Bam paused and sniffled quietly. "How... How did he look?" He asked tentatively. Linde didn't pause, merely let out a bit of air through his nose and spoke gently.
"He looked like himself. Hair a little shaggy, his skin still needing a tan. He always was a little too pale for the States, eh? Heh." Linde paused for a moment, licking his lips and looking over at Bam with resolution. "...He looked beautiful, Bam. He looked like Ville." And Bam felt the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a mixture of relief and then back downwards in a sudden painful longing.
"I miss him."
"I know you do..."
"You know I've... I've woken up in the morning or in the middle of the night... half expecting him to be there. Right next to me. Or to have... called me or something. And he hasn't. It's stupid of me."
"Bam?"
"Yeah?"
"What do you think about when you think of him?"
Bam didn't respond. He sniffled thickly and let out a quiet, choked breath before swallowing thickly, attempting to force the sudden lump in his throat to go away. It wouldn't.
"I think... I think about the way he kissed me. I think about how scared he was and how he still loved me. Through all of that, he loved me." Bam bit his lip. "And I wonder why it took something so awful to get us to that point, what took us so long. And I think about how it's too late now. I still love him, Linde..."
"...And what are you thinking about now? Here? With him." Linde made a gentle motion towards Ville's headstone, and Bam paused and his voice cracked when he did speak.
"I'm thinking about... about how I-I failed him."
"Bam, you didn't fail him..."
"No... I did. I worked so hard to make him better, to protect him. And, and yet I let him go back there. I just let him waltz back into the woods. So fucking stupid." A tear slipped down Bam's cheek and he coughed shakily. "I thought he was going to be okay, and I let him go back." He hung his head fully, his body folding in towards himself as he cried. His mouth didn't want to work amidst the tears, and his lips were wet from saliva and saline, and he sputtered slightly. "I should've fucking known better. He-he's dead, Mikko. And I did it. I killed him."
"Hey." Linde said sternly. "Listen to me. It wasn't your fault. Goddamnit, Bam, you fought tooth and nail for him... you got him out of there."
"Not alive."
"Bam... You tried." Linde said gently.
He placed his hand on the younger man's back and rubbed it gently. Bam said nothing. They sat in silence for a few long moments, and Bam felt the wind starting to blow and it brushed his hair against his forehead. It tickled and he tried not to think about it. His tears had stopped and he merely breathed deeply, his head and body still hung low and towards the ground. He dared to let his eyes glance up and rest on the tombstone once again. That is not dead which can eternal lie.
"What are you thinking right now?" Linde asked tentatively.
"...I'm thinking about how I'm supposed to make it not hurt anymore."
"Bam..."
And with strange aeons, even death may die.
::
Bam went back to his house to check on Uriel, letting him outside and feeding him. Bam sat outside in the backyard with the dog as he carelessly tossed a ball for him to fetch. He tried to sit still, and he tried to ignore the tons of texts he was receiving.
Linde: "You doing okay after being out there?"
Mige: "You don't have to be alone, man."
Ryan: "Please just let me know that you're okay."
Ape: "I wish I could make this go away, Bam."
And he sighed, letting his body fall back to lay on the grass. Uriel came up, dropping the ball, and licked his face before plopping down next to him. Bam ruffled his ears and stared upwards. The sun was going down. He raised his arms up above him, allowing his eyes to skim over his skin, noting all the tiny scars now forming on it. The last time he'd looked they'd been cuts, small lacerations from un-melted ice and protruding sticks. It didn't help that he was somewhat tan - darker skin scarred more darkly - normally he cherished his scars, but not this time. He snapped to attention when he heard his phone buzzing again. This time it blinked green; someone was calling him... Ryan. He sighed quietly and pressed ignore on the side of the phone. He stood up and walked back into the house, letting Uriel inside as he did. He strode into the kitchen, spotting Gabriel sitting on the countertop and he let his hand brush lightly against the cat's head.
But Gabriel dodged the touch and hissed at him before jumping down to the floor, leaving the room quickly. Bam stood still for a moment, his mouth slightly agape, until he had to tell himself to move. He felt his phone buzzing - a new voicemail. He told it to play and put it on speaker, setting the phone on the counter while he grabbed a glass of water.
"Bam, it's Mige. Please pick up... Look I know you want to be alone, but right now, I just don't think that's best... Call me back, and we'll see about us coming over or something."
The automated voice on his voicemail droned on once Mige had finished talking - press 4 to replay, press 7 to erase - and he downed his glass of water, his body suddenly shaking and he slammed the glass down on the counter. It shattered upon impact and he felt small shards of the glass go into his palm as the rest of the pieces fell to the floor. Uriel whined patheticaly and ran from the room. Bam swore loudly and plucked a couple of pieces from his bleeding palm and held it under warm faucet water. He watched small streams of red dripping down his hand as the water washed it away and he couldn't help but whimper - not in pain, but in memory. He rushed towards his bedroom and bandaged the wound as quickly as he could, the sight of blood on his hands made him sick.
He sighed quietly and leant his head against his hands. He could hear that his phone was still buzzing but he didn't want to even bother with it. He turned and glanced back down at his bag. He grabbed it quickly, not bothering to even grab new clothes, and strode out of his house, making his way swiftly to his car and driving down the street towards Ville's house again. He climbed the stairs and grabbed the key again, unlocking the door and setting it back on the doorframe above his head, and he slipped inside. The door shut as he leaned heavily against it and he looked upwards in the dim hallway, feeling his eyes stinging again, wondering how it was even possible for him to cry anymore, and he slid down the door slowly towards the floor. He pulled his knees to him and stayed curled up on the floor of the entranceway.
After a few minutes, Bam lifted his head and called himself pathetic. He stood slowly, bracing himself against the wall and walked slowly towards Ville's study. He knew he kept an old photo album in his desk - and really all he wanted to do right then was just see Ville again - and he reached into the drawer and pulled out the thick book, running his hand over the front to push away some dust. He held it tightly and moved towards the darkening living room. Bam steadily fell back to the couch, curling up against the arm, and opened the photo book. The first several pages were pictures of Ville's family, and pictures from when Ville was a boy, and Bam smiled slightly at them. But as he flipped further he found that the majority of the pictures in the book were of himself and Ville. Standing side by side outside Bam's place, goofing around on set (Jackass, Viva La Bam, what have you), together at a party, and that one picture Bam always wanted to keep where he'd snuck up behind Ville, grabbed him by the waist in a bear hug, and hoisted him in the air. Bam swore Ville's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He laughed sadly, his throat tightening and he slipped the photo out of its slot. He set the book down gently and stood up, migrating back to Ville's study. He glanced around Ville's desk, opening the center drawer and grabbing a thin-tip sharpie. He leaned on the desk, flipped the picture over and wrote on the back:
Ville and Bam. New Years. 2008.
He licked his lips and straightened his back, shifting to get his wallet, before he slipped it into one of the slots, storing the picture with him for good. He migrated idly back to the living room, sitting slowly back onto the couch and glancing down at the photo album that he'd left open. He closed it steadily as the room finally got too dark to see, and he didn't feel like turning on any lights. He sat still and stared at the black screen of the television. He didn't dare turn it on, knowing that the entire incident in the mountains was probably still a top story. If it'd been any else, no one would have cared, by now everyone would've forgotten, but Ville and he were celebrities now - therefore, the world cared about their plight. He scoffed bitterly and rested his head on the arm of the couch, still holding the photo album in his arms.
::
"You're bleeding..." was the first thing Ville said to him. Bam didn't say anything back, merely tried to glance around and assess where they were. It was bright, almost blindingly so, and Bam noted that it was freezing. He assumed they were somewhere outside. He shivered silently and wondered why he wasn't wearing a jacket. He glanced around again, trying to see landmarks, something to give him a clue as to where he was. But he could hardly see, and the sunlight was hurting his eyes. Bam's attention moved back to Ville.
"You're bleeding, Bam..." Ville said again.
"I am?" He murmured. He felt Ville touch his forehead lightly and the touch stung for a moment. Ville had pulled his hand back and was holding his fingers up for Bam to see.
"Yeah, see?"
But there was nothing on his fingers. No blood. He furrowed his brow and looked up at Ville. There was a small line of blood dripping down the side of Ville's forehead. He panted quietly and stared. And Ville said nothing.
"Ville, you..." But Ville cut him off.
"You're still bleeding..." And he reached his hand up again to touch Bam's forehead. Bam started to recoil, but something told him not to. He felt Ville's fingers touching lightly, dragging gently, and this time it didn't hurt. Bam just stared at him, and Ville's brow showed concern, his eyes fluttering hesitantly. Bam lifted his hand up and touched Ville's temple and forehead and he felt the blood on Ville smearing onto his fingertips. He let out an exasperated breath and let his hand splay across the side of Ville's face.
"Where've you been?"
Ville opened his mouth to speak but paused and Bam could see his eyes shift, as if he were trying to look at the hand pressed against his cheek. He looked back at Bam and mumbled sadly.
"I don't rightly know..." He swallowed thickly and put his hand over Bam's. "My side hurts..." Bam looked at him with worry and glanced down at his hip. His shirt was a dark, greyish-charcoal color, but Bam could see a dark, wet stain on it, and Bam's breathing increased heavily. He let out a desperate noise, unrecognizeable even to himself. He put his hand on Ville's side and he felt the older man flinch and he glanced back up at his face. His forehead was wrinkled and his breathing hard and Bam could feel Ville's knees giving out. He fell against Bam, holding onto his shoulders for support.
"Oh god." Bam breathed and he tried to hold Ville up. But he was suddenly too heavy, and Bam's knees started to cave too. "Breathe. It's okay, baby. It's okay. Just breathe." He commanded softly as Ville's head fell lightly to his shoulder, and he felt him nod gently against him. They lowered to the ground and Bam could've sworn he heard a helicopter somewhere far away. He looked around desperately, but he noticed quickly that they weren't outside anymore [if he even had been before...]. Instead, they crouched in a hallway. He looked down to his lap and held Ville a little tighter as he saw a couple thick drops of red land on the tile beneath him.
"Bam, breathe." He heard Ville whimper. And Bam shook his head and held him tight. "You're bleeding, Bam."
"God, no. Ville, Jesus." He looked around desperately, and Ville was shaking in his arms. "Somebody help!" and his voice echoed loudly. "Can anybody hear me!?"
Bam suddenly felt a gaping cough in his chest - breathless, as if he'd been punched in the gut - and he had to close his eyes for a second and clutch at his chest and stomach. He realized in the next instant that Ville wasn't in his arms anymore. He coughed loudly and cracked his lids and tried to yell. "Ville!" but it came out weak, quiet, and he could barely hear himself and he wondered if anyone else could. The hall was still bright, perhaps sunlight seeping in through a window at the end of the corridor to blind him. He could hear the sound of rapid footsteps coming towards him and he tried to get up off his knees, but his lungs were still empty and he hurt deep in the pit of his stomach. He squinted his eyes, but could barely see a silhouette, until they were kneeling directly in front of him, gentle hands on his shoulder. Someone he didn't recognize.
"Bam, it's okay, just breathe."
"Where did you take him?!" He stared up again and he saw Ryan standing next to the person holding onto him. "Dunn?"
"Bam, man, you'll be okay. Just breathe." He felt him touch his face lightly and the touch calmed him for the moment. He let his eyes slip closed and he hung his head, shivering against an embrace. "You'll be okay, relax, you can't do anything else for him. Just try to breathe." He said again. Bam opened his eyes quickly at the sound of a loud knock somewhere near him. He felt his body startle and he glanced around.
He was in the living room. He glanced down at his arms, seeing he was still holding Ville's photo album and he clenched his eyes shut. He lifted his hand and ran it through his hair, tugging firmly on the disheveled brown strands. He sighed quietly and shifted down to his back, letting the album rest on his chest. He pulled his fingers from his hair and rested the back of his hand against his forehead, closing his eyes. He heard the knock again but he didn't want to get up. If they were important, they would know how to get in, he was sure. He heard the tumblers click and sighed knowingly, hearing the door squeak open and click as it shut. He heard the sound of boots against the hardwood floor and he didn't bother to say anything or look up, knowing who was now standing above him. He heard him let out a small breath and he touched the hand resting on his head. He cracked his eyes open and stared up at him.
"Bam..." Mige mumbled. "You shouldn't be here."
He cleared his throat, trying to force out words, and his voice came out raspy and unused.
"Why not? Nobody's gunna care." He closed his eyes again.
"That's not what I meant." He paused and Bam opened his eyes, staring up at him expectantly. "I just mean... this isn't good for you, man. Think about Ville -" Bam cut him off with a chiding scoff.
"What do you think I'm doing here in the first place?"
Mige's face firmed and his lips moved to make a solemn line across his face. He blinked heavily and spoke again.
"I mean do you honestly think that this is what Ville would want? You cutting yourself off from everything, engulfing yourself in memories, making yourself feel worse?"
"How do you think you know what he would want?" Bam said, staring up at him, almost offended. He sighed.
"I don't know, you're right. But I can take a damn good guess that he wouldn't want to see you hurting like this - hurting yourself like this."
Bam said nothing, merely looked away from his friend.
"Man, listen, please come and stay with one of us. We want to spend time with you, and we want you to spend time with us too. We all need each other right now."
Bam let his eyes slip closed and he inhaled deeply through his nose, and before he could speak, Mige continued.
"You'll go mad if you stay here..."
He sighed and ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth. He nodded slowly, opening his eyes, and sat up slowly, staring down at the photo album now sitting in his lap.
"So where are we staying?" He muttered calmly.
"Probably Ryan's. He's got a pretty big place, and it's quiet out there. So I think we're all just gunna go there for a few days."
"I gotta get some things from home. Gotta... gotta call Jess."
"You haven't talked to him yet?" He asked incredulously.
"Haven't heard from him." Bam said with a sad shrug, standing up gently and walking away from Mige. He followed delicately, standing in the doorway of the study, watching as Bam gingerly set the photo album back on Ville's desk. He walked back towards Mige slowly, occasionally looking back at the room, and he put his hand on his shoulder lightly.
"Come on, let's get out of here."
[Chapter Four Cut]
Woopwoop!
Second dream!
It's a bit of a different pace than the first one, I do realize that. But I think a lot of what's really working for this part of the whole story is being able to actually get into Bam's head as he's going through this - something I didn't really grant you all with Ville in the first one (and that I'm not really granting you for this one, either). I do hope that you all are enjoying that aspect - that whole idea of actually getting into it, in the midst of it with Bam. And of course, alongside the grief, you've got the horror and almost... mystery/suspense aspect to it that I do also hope you like.
:)
Reviews make me hot. Fweehee.
Love.
[pandora]
Author: x_carnivale_x
Pairing: Bam/Ville, et all.
Rating: R/NC17. for mentions of sex, violence, gore, and horror.
Summary: That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons, even death may die.
Author's Notes: Whoop! Another chapter, I'm on a roll. In this chapter, Bam finally gets to go to Ville's grave, along with reluctantly returning to Ville's house. He also has his second dream.
Previous Chapters: Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three //
For those that want to read the original story, here is a link to the full story. [Starts at the last chapter, all previous chapters are linked.]
Dyatlov Pass - The Original
Bam sat quietly on the ground cross-legged. The grass was dry - dead and prickly, but he tried not to pay it any mind. He stared straight ahead and tried to ignore how the wind was causing his steadily lengthening hair to brush into his eyes. He still needed to get it cut. At least he'd shaved. He blinked heavily and stared at the headstone. It was simple - no elaborate angels or lambs sculpted or carved onto it. Merely words and dates - a name. His name.
Ville Hermani Valo.
November 22, 1976 - October 29, 2008.
That is not dead
Which can eternal lie.
And with strange aeons
Even death may die.
He sighed quietly, letting his fingers fiddle with the dogtags laced around his neck. It was quite for a moment, but he suddenly heard footsteps padding gently towards him, but he didn't bother to look up. There were legs standing to his right. He didn't say anything, just dropped his eyes slightly away from the headstone. He heard the person next to him sigh and Bam just stayed quiet.
"It's a lovely spot, isn't it?" Linde mumbled.
Bam glanced upwards, letting his eyes move across the landscape. The sun was out today, but it was cold. There was a willow tree a few feet from Ville's plot; it would have been beautiful, he thought, but it was November now and the leaves were gone, the branches thin and brittle. Bam swallowed thickly. Ville always loved willow trees.
"It's nice." He mumbled sadly. They were quiet for a moment before Bam looked up at Linde. "You used his favorite quote."
"We thought it fit nicely."
"It's beautiful." Bam let his voice soften and his eyes lower and he ran his fingers through his hair gingerly. Linde just eased down next to him, sitting lightly on the grass, legs bent, his arms wrapped around his knees. Their voices quieted, merely whispers, barely enough to grace over the calm cemetery.
"I'm sorry you couldn't be here when..."
"I understand."
"If we could have waited, we would have... You know that, right?"
"I know." Bam paused and sniffled quietly. "How... How did he look?" He asked tentatively. Linde didn't pause, merely let out a bit of air through his nose and spoke gently.
"He looked like himself. Hair a little shaggy, his skin still needing a tan. He always was a little too pale for the States, eh? Heh." Linde paused for a moment, licking his lips and looking over at Bam with resolution. "...He looked beautiful, Bam. He looked like Ville." And Bam felt the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a mixture of relief and then back downwards in a sudden painful longing.
"I miss him."
"I know you do..."
"You know I've... I've woken up in the morning or in the middle of the night... half expecting him to be there. Right next to me. Or to have... called me or something. And he hasn't. It's stupid of me."
"Bam?"
"Yeah?"
"What do you think about when you think of him?"
Bam didn't respond. He sniffled thickly and let out a quiet, choked breath before swallowing thickly, attempting to force the sudden lump in his throat to go away. It wouldn't.
"I think... I think about the way he kissed me. I think about how scared he was and how he still loved me. Through all of that, he loved me." Bam bit his lip. "And I wonder why it took something so awful to get us to that point, what took us so long. And I think about how it's too late now. I still love him, Linde..."
"...And what are you thinking about now? Here? With him." Linde made a gentle motion towards Ville's headstone, and Bam paused and his voice cracked when he did speak.
"I'm thinking about... about how I-I failed him."
"Bam, you didn't fail him..."
"No... I did. I worked so hard to make him better, to protect him. And, and yet I let him go back there. I just let him waltz back into the woods. So fucking stupid." A tear slipped down Bam's cheek and he coughed shakily. "I thought he was going to be okay, and I let him go back." He hung his head fully, his body folding in towards himself as he cried. His mouth didn't want to work amidst the tears, and his lips were wet from saliva and saline, and he sputtered slightly. "I should've fucking known better. He-he's dead, Mikko. And I did it. I killed him."
"Hey." Linde said sternly. "Listen to me. It wasn't your fault. Goddamnit, Bam, you fought tooth and nail for him... you got him out of there."
"Not alive."
"Bam... You tried." Linde said gently.
He placed his hand on the younger man's back and rubbed it gently. Bam said nothing. They sat in silence for a few long moments, and Bam felt the wind starting to blow and it brushed his hair against his forehead. It tickled and he tried not to think about it. His tears had stopped and he merely breathed deeply, his head and body still hung low and towards the ground. He dared to let his eyes glance up and rest on the tombstone once again. That is not dead which can eternal lie.
"What are you thinking right now?" Linde asked tentatively.
"...I'm thinking about how I'm supposed to make it not hurt anymore."
"Bam..."
And with strange aeons, even death may die.
::
Bam went back to his house to check on Uriel, letting him outside and feeding him. Bam sat outside in the backyard with the dog as he carelessly tossed a ball for him to fetch. He tried to sit still, and he tried to ignore the tons of texts he was receiving.
Linde: "You doing okay after being out there?"
Mige: "You don't have to be alone, man."
Ryan: "Please just let me know that you're okay."
Ape: "I wish I could make this go away, Bam."
And he sighed, letting his body fall back to lay on the grass. Uriel came up, dropping the ball, and licked his face before plopping down next to him. Bam ruffled his ears and stared upwards. The sun was going down. He raised his arms up above him, allowing his eyes to skim over his skin, noting all the tiny scars now forming on it. The last time he'd looked they'd been cuts, small lacerations from un-melted ice and protruding sticks. It didn't help that he was somewhat tan - darker skin scarred more darkly - normally he cherished his scars, but not this time. He snapped to attention when he heard his phone buzzing again. This time it blinked green; someone was calling him... Ryan. He sighed quietly and pressed ignore on the side of the phone. He stood up and walked back into the house, letting Uriel inside as he did. He strode into the kitchen, spotting Gabriel sitting on the countertop and he let his hand brush lightly against the cat's head.
But Gabriel dodged the touch and hissed at him before jumping down to the floor, leaving the room quickly. Bam stood still for a moment, his mouth slightly agape, until he had to tell himself to move. He felt his phone buzzing - a new voicemail. He told it to play and put it on speaker, setting the phone on the counter while he grabbed a glass of water.
"Bam, it's Mige. Please pick up... Look I know you want to be alone, but right now, I just don't think that's best... Call me back, and we'll see about us coming over or something."
The automated voice on his voicemail droned on once Mige had finished talking - press 4 to replay, press 7 to erase - and he downed his glass of water, his body suddenly shaking and he slammed the glass down on the counter. It shattered upon impact and he felt small shards of the glass go into his palm as the rest of the pieces fell to the floor. Uriel whined patheticaly and ran from the room. Bam swore loudly and plucked a couple of pieces from his bleeding palm and held it under warm faucet water. He watched small streams of red dripping down his hand as the water washed it away and he couldn't help but whimper - not in pain, but in memory. He rushed towards his bedroom and bandaged the wound as quickly as he could, the sight of blood on his hands made him sick.
He sighed quietly and leant his head against his hands. He could hear that his phone was still buzzing but he didn't want to even bother with it. He turned and glanced back down at his bag. He grabbed it quickly, not bothering to even grab new clothes, and strode out of his house, making his way swiftly to his car and driving down the street towards Ville's house again. He climbed the stairs and grabbed the key again, unlocking the door and setting it back on the doorframe above his head, and he slipped inside. The door shut as he leaned heavily against it and he looked upwards in the dim hallway, feeling his eyes stinging again, wondering how it was even possible for him to cry anymore, and he slid down the door slowly towards the floor. He pulled his knees to him and stayed curled up on the floor of the entranceway.
After a few minutes, Bam lifted his head and called himself pathetic. He stood slowly, bracing himself against the wall and walked slowly towards Ville's study. He knew he kept an old photo album in his desk - and really all he wanted to do right then was just see Ville again - and he reached into the drawer and pulled out the thick book, running his hand over the front to push away some dust. He held it tightly and moved towards the darkening living room. Bam steadily fell back to the couch, curling up against the arm, and opened the photo book. The first several pages were pictures of Ville's family, and pictures from when Ville was a boy, and Bam smiled slightly at them. But as he flipped further he found that the majority of the pictures in the book were of himself and Ville. Standing side by side outside Bam's place, goofing around on set (Jackass, Viva La Bam, what have you), together at a party, and that one picture Bam always wanted to keep where he'd snuck up behind Ville, grabbed him by the waist in a bear hug, and hoisted him in the air. Bam swore Ville's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He laughed sadly, his throat tightening and he slipped the photo out of its slot. He set the book down gently and stood up, migrating back to Ville's study. He glanced around Ville's desk, opening the center drawer and grabbing a thin-tip sharpie. He leaned on the desk, flipped the picture over and wrote on the back:
Ville and Bam. New Years. 2008.
He licked his lips and straightened his back, shifting to get his wallet, before he slipped it into one of the slots, storing the picture with him for good. He migrated idly back to the living room, sitting slowly back onto the couch and glancing down at the photo album that he'd left open. He closed it steadily as the room finally got too dark to see, and he didn't feel like turning on any lights. He sat still and stared at the black screen of the television. He didn't dare turn it on, knowing that the entire incident in the mountains was probably still a top story. If it'd been any else, no one would have cared, by now everyone would've forgotten, but Ville and he were celebrities now - therefore, the world cared about their plight. He scoffed bitterly and rested his head on the arm of the couch, still holding the photo album in his arms.
::
"You're bleeding..." was the first thing Ville said to him. Bam didn't say anything back, merely tried to glance around and assess where they were. It was bright, almost blindingly so, and Bam noted that it was freezing. He assumed they were somewhere outside. He shivered silently and wondered why he wasn't wearing a jacket. He glanced around again, trying to see landmarks, something to give him a clue as to where he was. But he could hardly see, and the sunlight was hurting his eyes. Bam's attention moved back to Ville.
"You're bleeding, Bam..." Ville said again.
"I am?" He murmured. He felt Ville touch his forehead lightly and the touch stung for a moment. Ville had pulled his hand back and was holding his fingers up for Bam to see.
"Yeah, see?"
But there was nothing on his fingers. No blood. He furrowed his brow and looked up at Ville. There was a small line of blood dripping down the side of Ville's forehead. He panted quietly and stared. And Ville said nothing.
"Ville, you..." But Ville cut him off.
"You're still bleeding..." And he reached his hand up again to touch Bam's forehead. Bam started to recoil, but something told him not to. He felt Ville's fingers touching lightly, dragging gently, and this time it didn't hurt. Bam just stared at him, and Ville's brow showed concern, his eyes fluttering hesitantly. Bam lifted his hand up and touched Ville's temple and forehead and he felt the blood on Ville smearing onto his fingertips. He let out an exasperated breath and let his hand splay across the side of Ville's face.
"Where've you been?"
Ville opened his mouth to speak but paused and Bam could see his eyes shift, as if he were trying to look at the hand pressed against his cheek. He looked back at Bam and mumbled sadly.
"I don't rightly know..." He swallowed thickly and put his hand over Bam's. "My side hurts..." Bam looked at him with worry and glanced down at his hip. His shirt was a dark, greyish-charcoal color, but Bam could see a dark, wet stain on it, and Bam's breathing increased heavily. He let out a desperate noise, unrecognizeable even to himself. He put his hand on Ville's side and he felt the older man flinch and he glanced back up at his face. His forehead was wrinkled and his breathing hard and Bam could feel Ville's knees giving out. He fell against Bam, holding onto his shoulders for support.
"Oh god." Bam breathed and he tried to hold Ville up. But he was suddenly too heavy, and Bam's knees started to cave too. "Breathe. It's okay, baby. It's okay. Just breathe." He commanded softly as Ville's head fell lightly to his shoulder, and he felt him nod gently against him. They lowered to the ground and Bam could've sworn he heard a helicopter somewhere far away. He looked around desperately, but he noticed quickly that they weren't outside anymore [if he even had been before...]. Instead, they crouched in a hallway. He looked down to his lap and held Ville a little tighter as he saw a couple thick drops of red land on the tile beneath him.
"Bam, breathe." He heard Ville whimper. And Bam shook his head and held him tight. "You're bleeding, Bam."
"God, no. Ville, Jesus." He looked around desperately, and Ville was shaking in his arms. "Somebody help!" and his voice echoed loudly. "Can anybody hear me!?"
Bam suddenly felt a gaping cough in his chest - breathless, as if he'd been punched in the gut - and he had to close his eyes for a second and clutch at his chest and stomach. He realized in the next instant that Ville wasn't in his arms anymore. He coughed loudly and cracked his lids and tried to yell. "Ville!" but it came out weak, quiet, and he could barely hear himself and he wondered if anyone else could. The hall was still bright, perhaps sunlight seeping in through a window at the end of the corridor to blind him. He could hear the sound of rapid footsteps coming towards him and he tried to get up off his knees, but his lungs were still empty and he hurt deep in the pit of his stomach. He squinted his eyes, but could barely see a silhouette, until they were kneeling directly in front of him, gentle hands on his shoulder. Someone he didn't recognize.
"Bam, it's okay, just breathe."
"Where did you take him?!" He stared up again and he saw Ryan standing next to the person holding onto him. "Dunn?"
"Bam, man, you'll be okay. Just breathe." He felt him touch his face lightly and the touch calmed him for the moment. He let his eyes slip closed and he hung his head, shivering against an embrace. "You'll be okay, relax, you can't do anything else for him. Just try to breathe." He said again. Bam opened his eyes quickly at the sound of a loud knock somewhere near him. He felt his body startle and he glanced around.
He was in the living room. He glanced down at his arms, seeing he was still holding Ville's photo album and he clenched his eyes shut. He lifted his hand and ran it through his hair, tugging firmly on the disheveled brown strands. He sighed quietly and shifted down to his back, letting the album rest on his chest. He pulled his fingers from his hair and rested the back of his hand against his forehead, closing his eyes. He heard the knock again but he didn't want to get up. If they were important, they would know how to get in, he was sure. He heard the tumblers click and sighed knowingly, hearing the door squeak open and click as it shut. He heard the sound of boots against the hardwood floor and he didn't bother to say anything or look up, knowing who was now standing above him. He heard him let out a small breath and he touched the hand resting on his head. He cracked his eyes open and stared up at him.
"Bam..." Mige mumbled. "You shouldn't be here."
He cleared his throat, trying to force out words, and his voice came out raspy and unused.
"Why not? Nobody's gunna care." He closed his eyes again.
"That's not what I meant." He paused and Bam opened his eyes, staring up at him expectantly. "I just mean... this isn't good for you, man. Think about Ville -" Bam cut him off with a chiding scoff.
"What do you think I'm doing here in the first place?"
Mige's face firmed and his lips moved to make a solemn line across his face. He blinked heavily and spoke again.
"I mean do you honestly think that this is what Ville would want? You cutting yourself off from everything, engulfing yourself in memories, making yourself feel worse?"
"How do you think you know what he would want?" Bam said, staring up at him, almost offended. He sighed.
"I don't know, you're right. But I can take a damn good guess that he wouldn't want to see you hurting like this - hurting yourself like this."
Bam said nothing, merely looked away from his friend.
"Man, listen, please come and stay with one of us. We want to spend time with you, and we want you to spend time with us too. We all need each other right now."
Bam let his eyes slip closed and he inhaled deeply through his nose, and before he could speak, Mige continued.
"You'll go mad if you stay here..."
He sighed and ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth. He nodded slowly, opening his eyes, and sat up slowly, staring down at the photo album now sitting in his lap.
"So where are we staying?" He muttered calmly.
"Probably Ryan's. He's got a pretty big place, and it's quiet out there. So I think we're all just gunna go there for a few days."
"I gotta get some things from home. Gotta... gotta call Jess."
"You haven't talked to him yet?" He asked incredulously.
"Haven't heard from him." Bam said with a sad shrug, standing up gently and walking away from Mige. He followed delicately, standing in the doorway of the study, watching as Bam gingerly set the photo album back on Ville's desk. He walked back towards Mige slowly, occasionally looking back at the room, and he put his hand on his shoulder lightly.
"Come on, let's get out of here."
[Chapter Four Cut]
Woopwoop!
Second dream!
It's a bit of a different pace than the first one, I do realize that. But I think a lot of what's really working for this part of the whole story is being able to actually get into Bam's head as he's going through this - something I didn't really grant you all with Ville in the first one (and that I'm not really granting you for this one, either). I do hope that you all are enjoying that aspect - that whole idea of actually getting into it, in the midst of it with Bam. And of course, alongside the grief, you've got the horror and almost... mystery/suspense aspect to it that I do also hope you like.
:)
Reviews make me hot. Fweehee.
Love.
[pandora]