Dyatlov Pass Sequel - All Our Passing Nights [Chapter 7/12]
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: Gahhh this chapter took forever. I'm not sure why, editing was just a bitch for it, and it's kind of long, so hey. But yeah, there's actually one scene in here that I just. really hope makes you smile. It was actually one of the first scenes I wrote for this sequel, I wasn't sure where it was going to go at first, but I had it written and just loved it, so I hope you do too. It's the blood type scene.
Along those lines, shit goes down in this chapter. More clues, all kinds of fun stuff. Hope you enjoy!
Previous Chapters: Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five // Chapter Six
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
Ville had done a lot of things in his life. You wouldn't really know it just from looking at him, but upon actually first getting to know the older man, Bam figured out exactly how versatile he was. He was a singer, a guitarist, and a song-writer, a damn talented one at that, but he was also a college graduate with an honors degree in English and Finnish. He read all the time, and hell, he even wrote prose. [That one, Bam never could get over. Ville rarely let Bam read his short stories, but when he did, Bam cherished the moments. Ville could write damn well, even if he never wanted to admit it.] He did theater and improv in college as well as high-school, and he always, always read the paper. He'd worked in a sex-shop in his younger years [and had loved it], and surprisingly, he rowed all through college - that was just. weird to Bam. But still so very 'Ville'. Vil could dance salsa, and meringue, oh, and let's not forget that little bit of Lindy Hop he did. He liked to sit outside and read, and his favorite tree was the willow tree. To Bam's chagrin, Ville had even played fuckin' Jai-Alai for a little while just for the sheer outlandishness of it. He had wound up with some really hilarious bruises from it, but Bam did his best not to laugh. In short. Ville used to do a ton of shit. Maybe a little bit of everything. So it really honestly shouldn't have surprised him all those months ago when he'd been told that Ville had been hiking in Russia. But... it had surprised him. Despite Ville's track record for strange, outlandish activities, it seemed completely out of character for Ville to be randomly hiking in the snowy plains of the Ural Mountains - without so much as a word to anyone but his family. Bam had stood dumbfounded when they said Ville had gone missing, and all he'd been able to say was "...Ville doesn't hike."
Ville hiked; of course Ville hiked.
But... Ville also normally would've called. He at least would have made mention to Bam that he was going somewhere. But he didn't. And don't think for a single second that Bam didn't clearly remember that fact. Clearly remember that Ville had just idly forgotten to mention that he was skirting off to fucking Russia to hike in some snowy, barely-frequented pass.
There were a lot of things Bam could tell you about Ville. He was about six inches taller than Bam, but he wore a smaller shoe size. He was prone to being stubborn and jumping to conclusions. He had freaky good hearing [seriously, Bam sometimes swore that Ville could hear him even if he were three rooms over and whispering.] He also had freakishly bright green eyes, enunciated by the dark eyeliner he tended to wear. People seemed to enjoy saying that all Ville's pictures were photoshopped to make his eyes stand out more - but that was absolutely false. They were just as bright in real time. Bam remembered this one night Ville was staying over at his place, and they were sitting quietly together in the dim light of Bam's living room. The mood was comfortable, hazy and calm with beer and liquor, but goddamn, Ville's eyes were just... popping out with brightness. Bam even had to tell him "Dude. Turn your eyes down or something, it's like I'm staring into Oz over here." Ville had been very confused but had laughed and given Bam another beer.
So in short, there were a lot of things Bam could tell you about Ville Hermani Valo. Like he said, he was prone to being a bit hard-headed and occasionally making rash decisions. And sometimes he would get upset over absolutely nothing. But there were two things Bam could honestly tell you Ville would never do.
One was to just up and leave without telling anyone. He was smarter than that.
And two was to walk knowingly into his own death. He was stronger than that.
But Ville had done both, and Bam actually doubted himself after the fact. He wondered how well he had actually known Ville, or if it was just the Pass that had changed him, but he also wondered how well he could trust his own assumptions. He sighed quietly as he lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, and he wished he could roll over to his side. But he had his foot propped up on a pillow with some ice on it, and he supposed it was probably for the best if he kept it there. He shifted his head to the side. His room had a window, but he was on the opposite side of the house - he couldn't see the backyard or the line of trees across it. He was almost thankful. Almost. He turned his head the other way and looked over at the nightstand where his phone sat calmly. With a stretch, he reached over and grabbed it, flipping it open to only reveal his background picture, rather than any messages or missed calls. He wished there would be some. He went through his missed calls and saw nothing out of the ordinary - only Linde, Mige, and Ryan had called him in the last few days. His texts were the same. The only texts he had were either new ones from his friends or old ones from Ville. There were no new texts from Ville and nothing that so much as newly mentioned Ville's hearing... or Ville being in trouble.
Bam's brother also hadn't called, and Bam really hated that. In fact... Jess hadn't called at all. He hadn't come by when Ville first went missing, he hadn't called while Bam was in Finland, he didn't bother to check in when Bam and Ville went out to the Pass in Russia [Well, Bam was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt on that one, Jess probably couldn't have known that they'd gone back out there, considering Bam hadn't told anyone, but still.] He hadn't even called to ask how Bam was, since he'd been in and out on the hospital. Jess lived roughly 45 minutes away from Ryan's house... Only about 10 from Bam's. And he hadn't even attempted to check in on his younger brother. And Bam would be lying if he said he didn't feel thoroughly abandoned. He sighed and closed his phone as quietly as he could manage, turning gently to stretch back and put it on the nightstand. Idly he stared at his wallet that rested there too, and his hand hovered over it before he tentatively picked it up, opening it and pulling out the picture of himself and Ville that he'd stolen from Ville's photo album. He tried really hard not to linger on whether or not Ville had loved that moment as much as he had - his arms wrapped tightly around the boy, joking with him, squeezing him, making him laugh. Ville's laugh was probably Bam's favorite thing about him.
That was another thing Bam could tell you about Ville. He laughed and smiled so much that he actually had laugh lines around his eyes by the age of 29. It was imperfect, but Bam thought it was the most wonderful thing in the world.
He also thought about how he hadn't heard Ville actually laugh since before he'd first gone to the Pass. The most he had gotten out of him after the whole incident had been a sad chuckle, and it honestly just wasn't the same. Bam swallowed thickly at the idea of never being able to hear Ville laugh again. He could watch videos, old clips of interviews, listen to the episodes that Ville had been on RadioBam, he could listen to old voicemails Ville had left him, and he could listen to the immense number of HIM CDs he owned. But somehow Ville's digitized laugh, his replicated voice would never be enough. He set his wallet back down on the nightstand but kept his hold on the picture, idly musing that Jess had been the one to take it. He glanced down at his foot propped on the pillow, and with his other one, he toed the bag of ice off of it to free it. He rolled onto his side, careful not to put any unnecessary pressure on the sprain, and curled into his body. As he rolled over, he heard the faint jingling sound from the tags around his neck. He'd almost forgotten they were there, and he slipped his fingers down past the collar of his tshirt to pull them out. He looked at them, running his finger shakily over the engraved letters of Ville's name, his religious [un]affiliation, and even his blood type. Bam and Ville had the same blood type. They had discussed this at length a long time ago, right around the time that they first met in L.A. and first become friends.
::
"I'm type A-." Ville said with resolution as he took a sip of his coffee.
"Pardon?"
"My blood type. I'm A-."
"...Mazel tov, Ville."
"I really think you should take this as a compliment, Brandon."
Bam put his latte down on the small table in front of him and stared across at Ville incredulously.
"I'm sorry but, what?"
"Seriously. Normally I have to wait like six months to tell someone my blood type. I've only known you for about a month now and yet I felt it was time for you to know."
"To know your... blood type?"
"It's very personal."
Bam quirked his eyebrow.
"Your logic does not resemble our Earth-logic."
"Mine is much more... advanced." Ville said with a stupid smile. Bam just chuckled and glanced down at his drink as Ville continued speaking. "But no. Seriously. When I'm comfortable enough with a friend, I feel it's a good thing to tell them my blood type. It's personal enough, and so when I tell them, it's a sign that I trust them enough for them to know. Like I said, normally it takes me a while to get that cozy with someone, but with you, nah. And I guess maybe I just want you to know it early on. I want this to be a good friendship, and I think for you and I, since I already feel comfortable with you, it's probably best to get these difficult, meaningful conversations out of the way early. I don't want there to be any... bad-blood... between us from the beginning."
"Oh wow," Bam muttered with a chuckle, a bit of snark lining his voice, "he's a musician and a comedian, ladies and gentlemen, simply astounding."
"Ass." Ville chuckled, still grinning. "I thought it might make you smile."
Bam did smile.
"You thought right, my friend, you thought right."
Ville just smiled right back at him - a small, shy grin - and he picked Bam's drink up to steal a sip of it. Normally Bam would have protested but he knew Ville's taste in coffee, and therefore he was fairly certain of what would happen when the green eyed boy tasted his drink. Instead of protesting the obvious theft, Bam merely grinned at Ville as the older man began to sip on the sugary latte. Bam felt an overwhelming sense of hilarity and victory when, as he'd predicted, Ville dove into the drink with a smile and came out recoiling from the taste with a disgusted frown on his lips. He put the latte down and sought out his own cup to try to get the sugar out of his mouth.
"Dude, that is way too sweet. How do you drink that?"
"Oh like yours is any better, Mr. No Cream, No Sugar, Thanks? You're probably that guy who sits in coffee shops and says "I like my women like I like my coffee - black and bitter." Bam said with a laugh. Ville just sipped his [yes, black] coffee, and smiled coyly back at the brown haired man, licking his lips before speaking.
"Like my women like I like my coffee - in a plastic cup."
Bam laughed deeply, but he knew he could do better, so he cleared his throat and spoke again after taking a fantastically sweet sip of his latte.
"Like my women like I like my coffee - $2.50."
"Oho! Okay, okay. You win, man, you win."
Ville's arm reached across the table to offer his hand to Bam's, an offering of surrender, and they shook firmly and quickly to seal the deal, all while smiling and laughing at their own stupid comments [which honestly weren't that funny], and at the jokes about blood types. When they calmed and their drinks were gone, Ville made a lazy stretching motion and stood, Bam following suit quickly. They gathered their cups and napkins silently, tossing them out and walking outside of the coffee shop together. Ville immediately slipped on his sunglasses in the bright L.A. sun. Bam kept his off and just smiled over at Ville, watching the way his dark, ebony locks blew over the lenses of his glasses in the breeze. Ville stared back with a mixture of perplexity and curiosity on his face. He chuckled lightly and questioned Bam's stare.
"Hah, what are you staring at?"
"Nothin'. But I have something to tell you too. I just wanted you to know, and I think it's important for our friendship that you know..."
"Oh?"
"I'm A- too." Bam said with a small grin on the corners of his lips.
Ville paused just before smiling the biggest, brightest smile Bam had ever seen. And suddenly, despite barely knowing the boy, Bam felt disgustingly comfortable and he wondered if he deserved that - that sense of natural comfort and chemistry that he felt with Ville. People normally spent their whole lives trying to find a friendship like that, and yet Bam was pretty sure he'd found his because of a passing introduction in the middle of an L.A. studio. Ville clapped his shoulder firmly, still smiling brightly, and squeezed the muscle, letting his fingers linger, and Bam thought that this friendship might not be anything like any of the others he's had - and he was okay with that.
"Well good." Ville said happily. "If I'm ever in dire need of blood, I know where to go."
Bam smiled and shook his head.
"You're the strangest person I've ever met."
"You too, buddy." muttered Ville, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
And from that moment, Bam was definitely sure that this was going to be different, and that, same blood type or not, he and Ville were going to know each other for a very long time.
::
Bam let out a low breath and curled a little more closely into himself. His body ached, and his ankle throbbed, and he knew he should probably put the ice back on it. He was absolutely exhausted, but he couldn't decide if he actually wanted to sleep or not. Sleep ran the risk of three very different scenarios. 1) If he slept, he might dream of Ville again - getting to dream about talking to him and kissing him and hearing him laugh. 2) If he slept, he might dream about Ville and the Pass - which meant it'd be a dream involving snow, or cold, or blood, or having to see Ville die. 3) Or, if he slept, he might not dream at all. The third was extremely unlikely, and he idly wondered if that's what death was like - like going to sleep and not dreaming. If you don't remember your dreams, it's almost as if for a few hours, you didn't exist anymore. Bam didn't know if he was alright with that; he was torn between liking the idea and being terrified by it.
He stared at the picture he held between his fingers and forced the lump in his throat back down to his stomach. He reached his arm out and gently set it on the nightstand, propping it up against the lamp so it could stand up. The room was dark, and Bam didn't want to turn the lamp on, but the light from the moon outside seemed to be just enough to give Bam a decent view. He laid he head back on the pillow and stared at the picture now with a sort of empty affection in his gut. The room was painfully quiet, and he could just faintly hear a ringing in his ears and he wondered if he could actually get to sleep with the noise. It was just an empty ring - and sometimes Bam wished it could actually have a meaning; people say they see and hear things in white noise all the time, they could see messages, figure out problems, decode things. But Bam couldn't - this was just a ring. It didn't have a pattern, it didn't ever whisper to him "Ville is alive, go to him", and it never, never ever told him that he was going to be okay. He mused back on that thought... "Ville is alive, go to him." and he scoffed sadly. With a hesitant shove on the bed beneath him, he sat up, swinging his legs over the side gently. His left foot touched the floor, the right one he managed to hang it just a little above the carpet. He pressed his hands down into the bed on either side of his thighs, resting his weight on his arms heavily, and he hung his head. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through his hair - it was soft, kind of long now, and a bit tangley, but he didn't really mind it. He pushed his body up, trying to balance as best he could on his good foot and stand. He tested out the pressure on his ankle, deciding what would be the easiest way to hobble were he to move. When he pressed it down, he hissed a little, but the pain wasn't as bad as he expected, and he quietly and slowly limped his way towards the door of the bathroom connected to his room.
Bam flipped on the light, his eyes squinting at the sudden brightness, and he leaned on the sink heavily. He stared at the shower across from him - the curtain was closed and he limped forward, pulling it open quickly. He got a sudden flash of memory, half expecting to see Ville sitting in the tub, soaking wet and fully clothed, shivering. But the tub was empty and dry. He swallowed thickly and sat down on the ledge, knowing that with his ankle, he couldn't fully just step in. He swung his legs over the side and into the tub, his hands resting on the ledge. He slid himself down into it, still wearing his tshirt and pants, and turned his body slightly so that his feet rested near the drain. He had to bend his knees so he'd fit. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees with a quiet, shaky sigh. He wondered what time it was. He leant forward and turned the tap on slowly, wincing as he could hear the loud sound of water rushing through the pipes - he just hoped it didn't wake anyone. He let his fingers slide into the stream of water coming out of the faucet - it was warm and nice, and with another reach, he flicked the handle that turned it from bath to shower. The water paused for a moment, but without warning, it crashed down over his body, and he felt extremely strange sitting there in his clothes. It also all felt very appropriate and comfortable. With his eyes still fixed forward, he reached his arm back blindly to pull the curtain shut. It only closed half way, and he could still feel the cold air from the bathroom seeping into the shower, but he didn't care. He just rested his head on his knees again, his eyes shut, feeling the water seeping down his face and body. He shivered and turned the cold tap a little lower. He rolled his shoulders a little as the hot water pounded against his body and he looked down at his feet, realizing they were covering the drain and the water was slowly rising. He shifted them a little and shut his eyes, turning his head to face the curtain as he rested his temple against his knees.
Behind his eyelids were memories - ones he sometimes wished he could suppress. Ville lying on his chest on the couch in their hotel, curling up in the shower alone, scalding himself with the water, freezing himself with it. Bam thought of when he had rested on his knees beside the tub and reaching a nervous hand out to Ville, wishing he could touch him. He could touch him then. He thought of kissing Ville. He thought of leaving Ville and coming back to him still soaking wet and freezing and ultimately pained.
"Oh, shut up!" He yelled and let out a sob. He saw the look of hurt cross Bam's face at the outburst, and while he cared that he'd hurt the older man, but he couldn't help himself. "They're dead, Bam. They're fucking dead! And I should be too."
Bam inhaled deeply, breath shaking, head still turned to face the curtain and resting against his knees. He clenched his eyes shut harder and furrowed his brow, and he couldn't tell if he was crying or not because of the water that was beating against his face. Some of it got into his mouth and he didn't know whether he should swallow it or just let it run out. He did nothing but let out a choked sob.
Suddenly, without warning, the water went cold and Bam about jumped out of his skin at the almost painful sensation. The water fell against him and it felt more like needles were drumming into his skin. Like getting a tattoo, only it covered the expanse of his body. He opened his eyes and fumbled towards the handles, turning the cold tap all the way off, leaving the hot tap where it was. The water warmed, slowly, but it wasn't anywhere near as warm as it had been a moment ago and Bam sighed. He was soaked, his clothing sticking to him under the spray of the water, and he felt a rush of cold air hit him as if the curtain had been opened. He stared at it - it was still closed, and he let out a breathy sigh and gripped the curtain with tentative fingers. He held onto it for a moment, staying still, and breathed deeply, muttering quietly out loud.
"Ville?"
He pulled the curtain aside and saw the bathroom was empty. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. He didn't bother to close the curtain again, instead he just watched as the water ricocheted off his body and splashed lightly on the tiled bathroom floor. He turned his head away to face the shower wall, closing his eyes again and resting his temple against his knee. He knew it should have surprised him, but somehow he was completely unphased as he heard a small sigh in the tiny bathroom. He calmly just lifted his head and turned to face outside the shower. Ville stood leaning against the door, staring at him with a look of desperation and sadness and want on his face. Bam just licked his lips, tasting the tap water still pouring on him, and stared back at Ville. He let his eyes slide to the floor, staring at Ville's shoes, and mumbled.
"Where've you been?"
"I told you, I don't know." Ville said quietly, almost as if he wished Bam would stop asking. Bam would never stop asking.
"Why are you here?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I shouldn't have to answer that, Vil."
He heard Ville push himself off the door and he glanced up to see him kneeling down beside the tub. Bam felt a hand press against his cheek and he curled into the touch, but somewhere inside him told him that his honest to god first reaction was to recoil. He just closed his eyes and nuzzled further into Ville's palm. He spoke quietly and he could feel his lips brushing against the calloused, scarred skin of Ville's hand.
"Tell me why you're here." Bam wished he could've hidden the sob behind his voice.
"I'm here because I miss you."
"You're here because I want you to be."
"Then why won't you open your eyes?"
Bam just clenched them tighter, running his tongue across his lips, as he felt Ville's fingers brush over his ear. He sniffled lightly and breathed out a choked breath, his voice breaking.
"Because if I do... If I do... I know you won't actually be here if I do."
The fingers against his face pressed a little more firmly and he felt something soft brush against his lips. He could feel Ville's stubble and his lips and could feel Ville's hand against his cheek, but Bam couldn't help but push away, hearing Ville breathe in a whimper.
"Bam, don't do this." was all Ville said.
"Then tell me you'll stay. If you can tell me you'll be here when I open my eyes and that this will all go away, I'll kiss you. But I don't know what to do. I don't know if you need me. If you're in trouble. Or if I'm just going crazy. But... but Ville I need you. You're here because I need you to be. I need you to be here so badly..."
"I'm trying so hard to be here. You don't understand."
"Damn right I don't understand. Just tell me... tell me that you're okay. Tell me you're okay without me. Tell me you don't need me." Bam said with a quiet whimper.
"I'm not okay." Ville sobbed quietly.
Then suddenly, the hand on his cheek was gone. Bam opened his eyes, half-expecting Ville to be there. It was only when he saw the empty bathroom that he realized the only reason he'd opened his eyes was because the water had gone cold again. He sighed quietly, muttering aloud to himself as he leaned forward to flip the taps off.
"I told you so."
He wiped his face solemnly, and he wasn't exactly sure as to whether he was wiping away shower water or tears he'd cried. He'd already forgotten. His clothes were drenched, and now that he wasn't under the water, he felt a deep-seated chill shift through him. He shivered lightly and pushed himself up as best he could, managing to shift his body up onto the ledge again. He turned his head silently, glancing down at the bathmat before swinging his legs over, but as his eyes caught the shag rug, he stopped his legs mid-throw, his entire body pausing as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him. There were two indentations in the shag - round and roughly shoulder width apart - indentations from someone kneeling down. Bam let his mouth fall open slightly as he lifted his head, staring around the bathroom silently. He tried to breathe silently, but found that the pants were too erratic and he couldn't seem to steady himself. He finished swinging his legs over, pressing his feet over the two indentations, careful still not to put too much pressure onto his ankle. He shuddered and stood haphazardly, grabbing a towel and limping as steadily as he could back towards the bedroom. He didn't bother to turn off the bathroom light, letting the bright, golden light seep over into the room.
He stripped his dripping shirt as he moved, dropping it to the floor carelessly, not bothering to pick the soaked garment off the ground. He did the same with his pants and boxers, as he limped further towards his bag. He shivered, his body still wet and cold, as he leant over and picked it up, not trusting his ankle to handle him crouching down, and dropped it on the bed, sifting through it silently. He pulled out a white shirt and dug deeper for a pair of pants. He was surprised when he saw a pair of white sweatpants. He didn't recall actually owning a pair of white sweats, but he quickly assumed they were Ville's, and he slid them on as carefully as he could.
He slipped the shirt on quickly after, realizing he hadn't fully dried himself and the shirt soaked a little from the random droplets of water that still rested on his chest. He didn't care very much and he shoved his bag back to the floor and left his drenched clothing lying on the carpet. He sat on the bed and glanced around the room for a clock - truly surprised when he didn't find one - he opted instead for his cell phone. He picked it up gently and flipped it open. The screen wasn't just his background this time. It was a text message... from Jess.
["I'll be over tomorrow, bro, I swear."]
Bam furrowed his brows, glancing up at the corner of the screen to check the time. It was almost 3am - the text had been sent roughly twenty minutes earlier. He pressed reply tentatively, but before he typed anything, his thumb shifted over to cancel out of the screen. He closed the phone and set it back down quietly on the nighstand. He turned his body around, pulling his legs up onto the bed, and eyed the half-melted pack of ice still lying on the covers. He picked it up and shifted himself back to lie down, putting the ice on his ankle as he did so. He laid back and stared up at the ceiling. He idly mused that his hair was still wet and that it would probably be a wreck by the morning, if left to dry against his pillow, but he couldn't bother to care.
The room was still illuminated by the bathroom light, and he couldn't help but turn his head to stare at the picture of Ville and himself, still propped against the lamp. He looked at it fondly, and emptily, and he let his fingers reach up to touch the tags around his neck. The night had ended as it had begun and he sighed quietly, thinking about Jess and Ville and telling himself that he'd fallen asleep in the shower. He reached out and grabbed the picture again, trying to be as careful with it as he could be - he was afraid he might tear the corners, or crinkle it. It was in such pristine condition and that was the only way he wanted to keep it. He knew it would wear away - it was completely inevitable, but he'd hang onto it for as long as he possibly could. He all but cradled the picture in his hand, still letting his eyes trace over the features of Ville's face - his smile wry and crooked from shock, his eyes glistening and extremely confused but happy, Bam's arms around his waist. He flipped over to the back again where he'd labeled it.
"Ville and Bam. New Years 2008."
He glanced up at the nightstand, stretching over to pull open the drawer and fumble around until he found a pen. He braced the picture into his palm and pressed down with the pen on the back of it to write on it. But Bam paused and licked his lips, lifting the pen up a little before glancing back down and reapplying the pressure. At the very bottom of the picture-back he scribed lazily.
"My kulta."
He smiled a minuscule smile - a pathetic smile, really, but it was a smile none the less - and he flipped the picture back over in his hand, leaning over and setting the pen down on the stand again. He looked into his hand and stared at Ville's face. The fingers of his other hand lifted slowly and traced the picture. The photograph was small, honestly, wallet-sized, and his fingers blocked out his face as he traced Ville's, but he didn't even care.
There were a lot of things Bam could tell you about Ville Valo. He really liked Bloody Mary's, and Bam thought they were disgusting. He waited an hour or so to shower after a run or a show, and Bam thought that was gross. He liked to read Walt Whitman, and Bam found that pretentious and campy. But Ville liked all of Bam's stupid antics and crappy taste in clothes, he always helped Bam find the right tie to wear if he needed it, and he always let Bam finish his crosswords (even if Ville could've done it himself). He spoke three separate languages: English, Spanish (at his mother's request demand), and Finnish. He could handle the hottest of L.A. summers and the coldest of Finnish winters, while Bam was quick to bitch and moan about sweating or shivering too much [West Chester was a great place, really, never too hot, never too cold - Ville thought that kind of weather would get boring].
Bam blinked heavily and kept looking at the picture - for once in a long while, he was legitimately tired. His eyelids felt heavy and weary, and he couldn't help the way the corners of his mouth turned upwards a little at the sight of Ville, despite the earlier experience in the bathroom. He swore that he'd merely fallen asleep, even though he knew he hadn't. He felt cold all of a sudden, his body quivering with a faint, unexpected chill. Bam sighed and idly flipped the picture back over - he wasn't sure why, honestly, he guessed he just wanted to reread his writing, wanted to remind himself of the night once again. But when he glanced at the back, he could hardly breathe, and with a desperate, quick twitch of his body, he'd dropped the picture to the floor, where it sat, face-down, the text still glaring up.
"Ville and Bam. New Years 2008.
My kulta.
Poistaa."
[Chapter Seven Cut]
Sorry this chapter took so long, it was just a bitch to edit.
All the fun little facts about Ville that were in this chapter, some were ones I know are true, others are honestly things I enjoy (rowing, hah) or that I think would've been awesome to see Ville do. Haha. But yeah, so just remember that as far as the Ville factoids, there was some creative license there, along with real facts about him.
So what do you guys think? Did you enjoy it? What are you thinking is going to happen? More importantly, I'm curious, what do you want to have happen?
*Bonus to anyone who caught the easter egg in this.* (It was subtle, but it's honestly the biggest clue, aside from the banner, that I've given since I started the sequel.)
Reviews, please. Thanks so much.
[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: Gahhh this chapter took forever. I'm not sure why, editing was just a bitch for it, and it's kind of long, so hey. But yeah, there's actually one scene in here that I just. really hope makes you smile. It was actually one of the first scenes I wrote for this sequel, I wasn't sure where it was going to go at first, but I had it written and just loved it, so I hope you do too. It's the blood type scene.
Along those lines, shit goes down in this chapter. More clues, all kinds of fun stuff. Hope you enjoy!
Previous Chapters: Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five // Chapter Six
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
Ville had done a lot of things in his life. You wouldn't really know it just from looking at him, but upon actually first getting to know the older man, Bam figured out exactly how versatile he was. He was a singer, a guitarist, and a song-writer, a damn talented one at that, but he was also a college graduate with an honors degree in English and Finnish. He read all the time, and hell, he even wrote prose. [That one, Bam never could get over. Ville rarely let Bam read his short stories, but when he did, Bam cherished the moments. Ville could write damn well, even if he never wanted to admit it.] He did theater and improv in college as well as high-school, and he always, always read the paper. He'd worked in a sex-shop in his younger years [and had loved it], and surprisingly, he rowed all through college - that was just. weird to Bam. But still so very 'Ville'. Vil could dance salsa, and meringue, oh, and let's not forget that little bit of Lindy Hop he did. He liked to sit outside and read, and his favorite tree was the willow tree. To Bam's chagrin, Ville had even played fuckin' Jai-Alai for a little while just for the sheer outlandishness of it. He had wound up with some really hilarious bruises from it, but Bam did his best not to laugh. In short. Ville used to do a ton of shit. Maybe a little bit of everything. So it really honestly shouldn't have surprised him all those months ago when he'd been told that Ville had been hiking in Russia. But... it had surprised him. Despite Ville's track record for strange, outlandish activities, it seemed completely out of character for Ville to be randomly hiking in the snowy plains of the Ural Mountains - without so much as a word to anyone but his family. Bam had stood dumbfounded when they said Ville had gone missing, and all he'd been able to say was "...Ville doesn't hike."
Ville hiked; of course Ville hiked.
But... Ville also normally would've called. He at least would have made mention to Bam that he was going somewhere. But he didn't. And don't think for a single second that Bam didn't clearly remember that fact. Clearly remember that Ville had just idly forgotten to mention that he was skirting off to fucking Russia to hike in some snowy, barely-frequented pass.
There were a lot of things Bam could tell you about Ville. He was about six inches taller than Bam, but he wore a smaller shoe size. He was prone to being stubborn and jumping to conclusions. He had freaky good hearing [seriously, Bam sometimes swore that Ville could hear him even if he were three rooms over and whispering.] He also had freakishly bright green eyes, enunciated by the dark eyeliner he tended to wear. People seemed to enjoy saying that all Ville's pictures were photoshopped to make his eyes stand out more - but that was absolutely false. They were just as bright in real time. Bam remembered this one night Ville was staying over at his place, and they were sitting quietly together in the dim light of Bam's living room. The mood was comfortable, hazy and calm with beer and liquor, but goddamn, Ville's eyes were just... popping out with brightness. Bam even had to tell him "Dude. Turn your eyes down or something, it's like I'm staring into Oz over here." Ville had been very confused but had laughed and given Bam another beer.
So in short, there were a lot of things Bam could tell you about Ville Hermani Valo. Like he said, he was prone to being a bit hard-headed and occasionally making rash decisions. And sometimes he would get upset over absolutely nothing. But there were two things Bam could honestly tell you Ville would never do.
One was to just up and leave without telling anyone. He was smarter than that.
And two was to walk knowingly into his own death. He was stronger than that.
But Ville had done both, and Bam actually doubted himself after the fact. He wondered how well he had actually known Ville, or if it was just the Pass that had changed him, but he also wondered how well he could trust his own assumptions. He sighed quietly as he lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, and he wished he could roll over to his side. But he had his foot propped up on a pillow with some ice on it, and he supposed it was probably for the best if he kept it there. He shifted his head to the side. His room had a window, but he was on the opposite side of the house - he couldn't see the backyard or the line of trees across it. He was almost thankful. Almost. He turned his head the other way and looked over at the nightstand where his phone sat calmly. With a stretch, he reached over and grabbed it, flipping it open to only reveal his background picture, rather than any messages or missed calls. He wished there would be some. He went through his missed calls and saw nothing out of the ordinary - only Linde, Mige, and Ryan had called him in the last few days. His texts were the same. The only texts he had were either new ones from his friends or old ones from Ville. There were no new texts from Ville and nothing that so much as newly mentioned Ville's hearing... or Ville being in trouble.
Bam's brother also hadn't called, and Bam really hated that. In fact... Jess hadn't called at all. He hadn't come by when Ville first went missing, he hadn't called while Bam was in Finland, he didn't bother to check in when Bam and Ville went out to the Pass in Russia [Well, Bam was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt on that one, Jess probably couldn't have known that they'd gone back out there, considering Bam hadn't told anyone, but still.] He hadn't even called to ask how Bam was, since he'd been in and out on the hospital. Jess lived roughly 45 minutes away from Ryan's house... Only about 10 from Bam's. And he hadn't even attempted to check in on his younger brother. And Bam would be lying if he said he didn't feel thoroughly abandoned. He sighed and closed his phone as quietly as he could manage, turning gently to stretch back and put it on the nightstand. Idly he stared at his wallet that rested there too, and his hand hovered over it before he tentatively picked it up, opening it and pulling out the picture of himself and Ville that he'd stolen from Ville's photo album. He tried really hard not to linger on whether or not Ville had loved that moment as much as he had - his arms wrapped tightly around the boy, joking with him, squeezing him, making him laugh. Ville's laugh was probably Bam's favorite thing about him.
That was another thing Bam could tell you about Ville. He laughed and smiled so much that he actually had laugh lines around his eyes by the age of 29. It was imperfect, but Bam thought it was the most wonderful thing in the world.
He also thought about how he hadn't heard Ville actually laugh since before he'd first gone to the Pass. The most he had gotten out of him after the whole incident had been a sad chuckle, and it honestly just wasn't the same. Bam swallowed thickly at the idea of never being able to hear Ville laugh again. He could watch videos, old clips of interviews, listen to the episodes that Ville had been on RadioBam, he could listen to old voicemails Ville had left him, and he could listen to the immense number of HIM CDs he owned. But somehow Ville's digitized laugh, his replicated voice would never be enough. He set his wallet back down on the nightstand but kept his hold on the picture, idly musing that Jess had been the one to take it. He glanced down at his foot propped on the pillow, and with his other one, he toed the bag of ice off of it to free it. He rolled onto his side, careful not to put any unnecessary pressure on the sprain, and curled into his body. As he rolled over, he heard the faint jingling sound from the tags around his neck. He'd almost forgotten they were there, and he slipped his fingers down past the collar of his tshirt to pull them out. He looked at them, running his finger shakily over the engraved letters of Ville's name, his religious [un]affiliation, and even his blood type. Bam and Ville had the same blood type. They had discussed this at length a long time ago, right around the time that they first met in L.A. and first become friends.
::
"I'm type A-." Ville said with resolution as he took a sip of his coffee.
"Pardon?"
"My blood type. I'm A-."
"...Mazel tov, Ville."
"I really think you should take this as a compliment, Brandon."
Bam put his latte down on the small table in front of him and stared across at Ville incredulously.
"I'm sorry but, what?"
"Seriously. Normally I have to wait like six months to tell someone my blood type. I've only known you for about a month now and yet I felt it was time for you to know."
"To know your... blood type?"
"It's very personal."
Bam quirked his eyebrow.
"Your logic does not resemble our Earth-logic."
"Mine is much more... advanced." Ville said with a stupid smile. Bam just chuckled and glanced down at his drink as Ville continued speaking. "But no. Seriously. When I'm comfortable enough with a friend, I feel it's a good thing to tell them my blood type. It's personal enough, and so when I tell them, it's a sign that I trust them enough for them to know. Like I said, normally it takes me a while to get that cozy with someone, but with you, nah. And I guess maybe I just want you to know it early on. I want this to be a good friendship, and I think for you and I, since I already feel comfortable with you, it's probably best to get these difficult, meaningful conversations out of the way early. I don't want there to be any... bad-blood... between us from the beginning."
"Oh wow," Bam muttered with a chuckle, a bit of snark lining his voice, "he's a musician and a comedian, ladies and gentlemen, simply astounding."
"Ass." Ville chuckled, still grinning. "I thought it might make you smile."
Bam did smile.
"You thought right, my friend, you thought right."
Ville just smiled right back at him - a small, shy grin - and he picked Bam's drink up to steal a sip of it. Normally Bam would have protested but he knew Ville's taste in coffee, and therefore he was fairly certain of what would happen when the green eyed boy tasted his drink. Instead of protesting the obvious theft, Bam merely grinned at Ville as the older man began to sip on the sugary latte. Bam felt an overwhelming sense of hilarity and victory when, as he'd predicted, Ville dove into the drink with a smile and came out recoiling from the taste with a disgusted frown on his lips. He put the latte down and sought out his own cup to try to get the sugar out of his mouth.
"Dude, that is way too sweet. How do you drink that?"
"Oh like yours is any better, Mr. No Cream, No Sugar, Thanks? You're probably that guy who sits in coffee shops and says "I like my women like I like my coffee - black and bitter." Bam said with a laugh. Ville just sipped his [yes, black] coffee, and smiled coyly back at the brown haired man, licking his lips before speaking.
"Like my women like I like my coffee - in a plastic cup."
Bam laughed deeply, but he knew he could do better, so he cleared his throat and spoke again after taking a fantastically sweet sip of his latte.
"Like my women like I like my coffee - $2.50."
"Oho! Okay, okay. You win, man, you win."
Ville's arm reached across the table to offer his hand to Bam's, an offering of surrender, and they shook firmly and quickly to seal the deal, all while smiling and laughing at their own stupid comments [which honestly weren't that funny], and at the jokes about blood types. When they calmed and their drinks were gone, Ville made a lazy stretching motion and stood, Bam following suit quickly. They gathered their cups and napkins silently, tossing them out and walking outside of the coffee shop together. Ville immediately slipped on his sunglasses in the bright L.A. sun. Bam kept his off and just smiled over at Ville, watching the way his dark, ebony locks blew over the lenses of his glasses in the breeze. Ville stared back with a mixture of perplexity and curiosity on his face. He chuckled lightly and questioned Bam's stare.
"Hah, what are you staring at?"
"Nothin'. But I have something to tell you too. I just wanted you to know, and I think it's important for our friendship that you know..."
"Oh?"
"I'm A- too." Bam said with a small grin on the corners of his lips.
Ville paused just before smiling the biggest, brightest smile Bam had ever seen. And suddenly, despite barely knowing the boy, Bam felt disgustingly comfortable and he wondered if he deserved that - that sense of natural comfort and chemistry that he felt with Ville. People normally spent their whole lives trying to find a friendship like that, and yet Bam was pretty sure he'd found his because of a passing introduction in the middle of an L.A. studio. Ville clapped his shoulder firmly, still smiling brightly, and squeezed the muscle, letting his fingers linger, and Bam thought that this friendship might not be anything like any of the others he's had - and he was okay with that.
"Well good." Ville said happily. "If I'm ever in dire need of blood, I know where to go."
Bam smiled and shook his head.
"You're the strangest person I've ever met."
"You too, buddy." muttered Ville, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
And from that moment, Bam was definitely sure that this was going to be different, and that, same blood type or not, he and Ville were going to know each other for a very long time.
::
Bam let out a low breath and curled a little more closely into himself. His body ached, and his ankle throbbed, and he knew he should probably put the ice back on it. He was absolutely exhausted, but he couldn't decide if he actually wanted to sleep or not. Sleep ran the risk of three very different scenarios. 1) If he slept, he might dream of Ville again - getting to dream about talking to him and kissing him and hearing him laugh. 2) If he slept, he might dream about Ville and the Pass - which meant it'd be a dream involving snow, or cold, or blood, or having to see Ville die. 3) Or, if he slept, he might not dream at all. The third was extremely unlikely, and he idly wondered if that's what death was like - like going to sleep and not dreaming. If you don't remember your dreams, it's almost as if for a few hours, you didn't exist anymore. Bam didn't know if he was alright with that; he was torn between liking the idea and being terrified by it.
He stared at the picture he held between his fingers and forced the lump in his throat back down to his stomach. He reached his arm out and gently set it on the nightstand, propping it up against the lamp so it could stand up. The room was dark, and Bam didn't want to turn the lamp on, but the light from the moon outside seemed to be just enough to give Bam a decent view. He laid he head back on the pillow and stared at the picture now with a sort of empty affection in his gut. The room was painfully quiet, and he could just faintly hear a ringing in his ears and he wondered if he could actually get to sleep with the noise. It was just an empty ring - and sometimes Bam wished it could actually have a meaning; people say they see and hear things in white noise all the time, they could see messages, figure out problems, decode things. But Bam couldn't - this was just a ring. It didn't have a pattern, it didn't ever whisper to him "Ville is alive, go to him", and it never, never ever told him that he was going to be okay. He mused back on that thought... "Ville is alive, go to him." and he scoffed sadly. With a hesitant shove on the bed beneath him, he sat up, swinging his legs over the side gently. His left foot touched the floor, the right one he managed to hang it just a little above the carpet. He pressed his hands down into the bed on either side of his thighs, resting his weight on his arms heavily, and he hung his head. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through his hair - it was soft, kind of long now, and a bit tangley, but he didn't really mind it. He pushed his body up, trying to balance as best he could on his good foot and stand. He tested out the pressure on his ankle, deciding what would be the easiest way to hobble were he to move. When he pressed it down, he hissed a little, but the pain wasn't as bad as he expected, and he quietly and slowly limped his way towards the door of the bathroom connected to his room.
Bam flipped on the light, his eyes squinting at the sudden brightness, and he leaned on the sink heavily. He stared at the shower across from him - the curtain was closed and he limped forward, pulling it open quickly. He got a sudden flash of memory, half expecting to see Ville sitting in the tub, soaking wet and fully clothed, shivering. But the tub was empty and dry. He swallowed thickly and sat down on the ledge, knowing that with his ankle, he couldn't fully just step in. He swung his legs over the side and into the tub, his hands resting on the ledge. He slid himself down into it, still wearing his tshirt and pants, and turned his body slightly so that his feet rested near the drain. He had to bend his knees so he'd fit. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees with a quiet, shaky sigh. He wondered what time it was. He leant forward and turned the tap on slowly, wincing as he could hear the loud sound of water rushing through the pipes - he just hoped it didn't wake anyone. He let his fingers slide into the stream of water coming out of the faucet - it was warm and nice, and with another reach, he flicked the handle that turned it from bath to shower. The water paused for a moment, but without warning, it crashed down over his body, and he felt extremely strange sitting there in his clothes. It also all felt very appropriate and comfortable. With his eyes still fixed forward, he reached his arm back blindly to pull the curtain shut. It only closed half way, and he could still feel the cold air from the bathroom seeping into the shower, but he didn't care. He just rested his head on his knees again, his eyes shut, feeling the water seeping down his face and body. He shivered and turned the cold tap a little lower. He rolled his shoulders a little as the hot water pounded against his body and he looked down at his feet, realizing they were covering the drain and the water was slowly rising. He shifted them a little and shut his eyes, turning his head to face the curtain as he rested his temple against his knees.
Behind his eyelids were memories - ones he sometimes wished he could suppress. Ville lying on his chest on the couch in their hotel, curling up in the shower alone, scalding himself with the water, freezing himself with it. Bam thought of when he had rested on his knees beside the tub and reaching a nervous hand out to Ville, wishing he could touch him. He could touch him then. He thought of kissing Ville. He thought of leaving Ville and coming back to him still soaking wet and freezing and ultimately pained.
"Oh, shut up!" He yelled and let out a sob. He saw the look of hurt cross Bam's face at the outburst, and while he cared that he'd hurt the older man, but he couldn't help himself. "They're dead, Bam. They're fucking dead! And I should be too."
Bam inhaled deeply, breath shaking, head still turned to face the curtain and resting against his knees. He clenched his eyes shut harder and furrowed his brow, and he couldn't tell if he was crying or not because of the water that was beating against his face. Some of it got into his mouth and he didn't know whether he should swallow it or just let it run out. He did nothing but let out a choked sob.
Suddenly, without warning, the water went cold and Bam about jumped out of his skin at the almost painful sensation. The water fell against him and it felt more like needles were drumming into his skin. Like getting a tattoo, only it covered the expanse of his body. He opened his eyes and fumbled towards the handles, turning the cold tap all the way off, leaving the hot tap where it was. The water warmed, slowly, but it wasn't anywhere near as warm as it had been a moment ago and Bam sighed. He was soaked, his clothing sticking to him under the spray of the water, and he felt a rush of cold air hit him as if the curtain had been opened. He stared at it - it was still closed, and he let out a breathy sigh and gripped the curtain with tentative fingers. He held onto it for a moment, staying still, and breathed deeply, muttering quietly out loud.
"Ville?"
He pulled the curtain aside and saw the bathroom was empty. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. He didn't bother to close the curtain again, instead he just watched as the water ricocheted off his body and splashed lightly on the tiled bathroom floor. He turned his head away to face the shower wall, closing his eyes again and resting his temple against his knee. He knew it should have surprised him, but somehow he was completely unphased as he heard a small sigh in the tiny bathroom. He calmly just lifted his head and turned to face outside the shower. Ville stood leaning against the door, staring at him with a look of desperation and sadness and want on his face. Bam just licked his lips, tasting the tap water still pouring on him, and stared back at Ville. He let his eyes slide to the floor, staring at Ville's shoes, and mumbled.
"Where've you been?"
"I told you, I don't know." Ville said quietly, almost as if he wished Bam would stop asking. Bam would never stop asking.
"Why are you here?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I shouldn't have to answer that, Vil."
He heard Ville push himself off the door and he glanced up to see him kneeling down beside the tub. Bam felt a hand press against his cheek and he curled into the touch, but somewhere inside him told him that his honest to god first reaction was to recoil. He just closed his eyes and nuzzled further into Ville's palm. He spoke quietly and he could feel his lips brushing against the calloused, scarred skin of Ville's hand.
"Tell me why you're here." Bam wished he could've hidden the sob behind his voice.
"I'm here because I miss you."
"You're here because I want you to be."
"Then why won't you open your eyes?"
Bam just clenched them tighter, running his tongue across his lips, as he felt Ville's fingers brush over his ear. He sniffled lightly and breathed out a choked breath, his voice breaking.
"Because if I do... If I do... I know you won't actually be here if I do."
The fingers against his face pressed a little more firmly and he felt something soft brush against his lips. He could feel Ville's stubble and his lips and could feel Ville's hand against his cheek, but Bam couldn't help but push away, hearing Ville breathe in a whimper.
"Bam, don't do this." was all Ville said.
"Then tell me you'll stay. If you can tell me you'll be here when I open my eyes and that this will all go away, I'll kiss you. But I don't know what to do. I don't know if you need me. If you're in trouble. Or if I'm just going crazy. But... but Ville I need you. You're here because I need you to be. I need you to be here so badly..."
"I'm trying so hard to be here. You don't understand."
"Damn right I don't understand. Just tell me... tell me that you're okay. Tell me you're okay without me. Tell me you don't need me." Bam said with a quiet whimper.
"I'm not okay." Ville sobbed quietly.
Then suddenly, the hand on his cheek was gone. Bam opened his eyes, half-expecting Ville to be there. It was only when he saw the empty bathroom that he realized the only reason he'd opened his eyes was because the water had gone cold again. He sighed quietly, muttering aloud to himself as he leaned forward to flip the taps off.
"I told you so."
He wiped his face solemnly, and he wasn't exactly sure as to whether he was wiping away shower water or tears he'd cried. He'd already forgotten. His clothes were drenched, and now that he wasn't under the water, he felt a deep-seated chill shift through him. He shivered lightly and pushed himself up as best he could, managing to shift his body up onto the ledge again. He turned his head silently, glancing down at the bathmat before swinging his legs over, but as his eyes caught the shag rug, he stopped his legs mid-throw, his entire body pausing as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him. There were two indentations in the shag - round and roughly shoulder width apart - indentations from someone kneeling down. Bam let his mouth fall open slightly as he lifted his head, staring around the bathroom silently. He tried to breathe silently, but found that the pants were too erratic and he couldn't seem to steady himself. He finished swinging his legs over, pressing his feet over the two indentations, careful still not to put too much pressure onto his ankle. He shuddered and stood haphazardly, grabbing a towel and limping as steadily as he could back towards the bedroom. He didn't bother to turn off the bathroom light, letting the bright, golden light seep over into the room.
He stripped his dripping shirt as he moved, dropping it to the floor carelessly, not bothering to pick the soaked garment off the ground. He did the same with his pants and boxers, as he limped further towards his bag. He shivered, his body still wet and cold, as he leant over and picked it up, not trusting his ankle to handle him crouching down, and dropped it on the bed, sifting through it silently. He pulled out a white shirt and dug deeper for a pair of pants. He was surprised when he saw a pair of white sweatpants. He didn't recall actually owning a pair of white sweats, but he quickly assumed they were Ville's, and he slid them on as carefully as he could.
He slipped the shirt on quickly after, realizing he hadn't fully dried himself and the shirt soaked a little from the random droplets of water that still rested on his chest. He didn't care very much and he shoved his bag back to the floor and left his drenched clothing lying on the carpet. He sat on the bed and glanced around the room for a clock - truly surprised when he didn't find one - he opted instead for his cell phone. He picked it up gently and flipped it open. The screen wasn't just his background this time. It was a text message... from Jess.
["I'll be over tomorrow, bro, I swear."]
Bam furrowed his brows, glancing up at the corner of the screen to check the time. It was almost 3am - the text had been sent roughly twenty minutes earlier. He pressed reply tentatively, but before he typed anything, his thumb shifted over to cancel out of the screen. He closed the phone and set it back down quietly on the nighstand. He turned his body around, pulling his legs up onto the bed, and eyed the half-melted pack of ice still lying on the covers. He picked it up and shifted himself back to lie down, putting the ice on his ankle as he did so. He laid back and stared up at the ceiling. He idly mused that his hair was still wet and that it would probably be a wreck by the morning, if left to dry against his pillow, but he couldn't bother to care.
The room was still illuminated by the bathroom light, and he couldn't help but turn his head to stare at the picture of Ville and himself, still propped against the lamp. He looked at it fondly, and emptily, and he let his fingers reach up to touch the tags around his neck. The night had ended as it had begun and he sighed quietly, thinking about Jess and Ville and telling himself that he'd fallen asleep in the shower. He reached out and grabbed the picture again, trying to be as careful with it as he could be - he was afraid he might tear the corners, or crinkle it. It was in such pristine condition and that was the only way he wanted to keep it. He knew it would wear away - it was completely inevitable, but he'd hang onto it for as long as he possibly could. He all but cradled the picture in his hand, still letting his eyes trace over the features of Ville's face - his smile wry and crooked from shock, his eyes glistening and extremely confused but happy, Bam's arms around his waist. He flipped over to the back again where he'd labeled it.
"Ville and Bam. New Years 2008."
He glanced up at the nightstand, stretching over to pull open the drawer and fumble around until he found a pen. He braced the picture into his palm and pressed down with the pen on the back of it to write on it. But Bam paused and licked his lips, lifting the pen up a little before glancing back down and reapplying the pressure. At the very bottom of the picture-back he scribed lazily.
"My kulta."
He smiled a minuscule smile - a pathetic smile, really, but it was a smile none the less - and he flipped the picture back over in his hand, leaning over and setting the pen down on the stand again. He looked into his hand and stared at Ville's face. The fingers of his other hand lifted slowly and traced the picture. The photograph was small, honestly, wallet-sized, and his fingers blocked out his face as he traced Ville's, but he didn't even care.
There were a lot of things Bam could tell you about Ville Valo. He really liked Bloody Mary's, and Bam thought they were disgusting. He waited an hour or so to shower after a run or a show, and Bam thought that was gross. He liked to read Walt Whitman, and Bam found that pretentious and campy. But Ville liked all of Bam's stupid antics and crappy taste in clothes, he always helped Bam find the right tie to wear if he needed it, and he always let Bam finish his crosswords (even if Ville could've done it himself). He spoke three separate languages: English, Spanish (at his mother's request demand), and Finnish. He could handle the hottest of L.A. summers and the coldest of Finnish winters, while Bam was quick to bitch and moan about sweating or shivering too much [West Chester was a great place, really, never too hot, never too cold - Ville thought that kind of weather would get boring].
Bam blinked heavily and kept looking at the picture - for once in a long while, he was legitimately tired. His eyelids felt heavy and weary, and he couldn't help the way the corners of his mouth turned upwards a little at the sight of Ville, despite the earlier experience in the bathroom. He swore that he'd merely fallen asleep, even though he knew he hadn't. He felt cold all of a sudden, his body quivering with a faint, unexpected chill. Bam sighed and idly flipped the picture back over - he wasn't sure why, honestly, he guessed he just wanted to reread his writing, wanted to remind himself of the night once again. But when he glanced at the back, he could hardly breathe, and with a desperate, quick twitch of his body, he'd dropped the picture to the floor, where it sat, face-down, the text still glaring up.
"Ville and Bam. New Years 2008.
My kulta.
Poistaa."
[Chapter Seven Cut]
Sorry this chapter took so long, it was just a bitch to edit.
All the fun little facts about Ville that were in this chapter, some were ones I know are true, others are honestly things I enjoy (rowing, hah) or that I think would've been awesome to see Ville do. Haha. But yeah, so just remember that as far as the Ville factoids, there was some creative license there, along with real facts about him.
So what do you guys think? Did you enjoy it? What are you thinking is going to happen? More importantly, I'm curious, what do you want to have happen?
*Bonus to anyone who caught the easter egg in this.* (It was subtle, but it's honestly the biggest clue, aside from the banner, that I've given since I started the sequel.)
Reviews, please. Thanks so much.
[pandora]