drunkonhim
in
__vam
Eternal Chp. 5
Title: Eternal
Summary: Bam is a lonely boy who finds his first real friend in the new girl next door. But this girl isn't all that she seems...
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. This is just my imagination, inspired by a wonderful novel
A/N: hey guys. finally got the time to squeeze out another update of this story (for anyone who's still reading). I will be working on Just A Whore, but I've got exams coming up so it might be a little while longer.
A/N: Now, as for this story, I just want to explain something in order to avoid confusion. Yes, it was established in the last chapter that Ville is a boy, but being as only one character knows this, he will still be referred to as a girl for a while longer. This won't last forever, but it is important to the plot. Thank you, and enjoy ^_^
Previous Chapter
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Jonne’s fingers and toes were numb by the time he had reached his destination. The walk wasn’t terribly long, about fifteen or twenty minutes, but it had begun to snow again. His body should be more equipped to handle the cold, but perhaps he had been getting too used to the American weather. The harsh winds never used to bother him like this. In the back of his mind, he curses Antti for taking the van. He pushes that thought out of his mind though. He’s used the car for the past two nights, it wouldn’t have been fair to take it again and make Antti walk twice the distance.
There are blue flashing lights coming from the building around the corner. Jonne stops in his tracks, stricken by fear. Shit! They had found it. Overcoming his fear, the Finn begins to sprint in the direction of the flashing lights, the winter wind stinging his red cheeks. His heart pounds in his chest as he rounds the corner and comes face to face with the lights of the police car…. For a moment, he can’t help but laugh. He had gotten himself so worked up and scared, and it wasn’t even what he had thought.
In the tight alleyway of this small apartment building, there was a line of yellow tape. On the other side are two men in blue uniforms and a couple of people in black jackets taking photographs. Something had happened here, but not what he was expecting. If they had found it, found the entrance, then there wouldn’t be this big of a fuss. Jonne laughs at his foolishness, at how worried he had become. One of the police officers on the other side of the tape hears his laugh and narrows his eyes towards him. The cop shakes his head and tells the blonde to move along. Jonne nods to the man and takes off.
What he was looking for was on the opposite side of the building. He looks over his shoulder, making sure that no one was around before ducking into the alleyway. The Finn keeps his eyes focused on the bottom of the building, just where the brick meets the ground, and begins to count. He counts the rectangular basement windows until he reaches the fifth, the one with a crack in the glass. Jonne kneels down and reaches out his frozen hand to knock on the glass; two quick, three long. There’s no response at first, but that isn’t unusual. He tries again, but there is still no response. When he raises his hand to try a third time though, he hears a whisper.
“Jonne… is that you?”
“Who else would it be?”
There is the sound of muffled laughter and the window opens inward. Jonne tells his friend to stand back as he shoves his bag in first. The Finn positions himself on the ground so that he’s lying on his stomach and begins to go through the window, feet first. It’s times like these that he’s thankful that he is so small. Fitting through this tight space is no easy task; he almost broke his ankle the first time he attempted it. His lower body is through the window, his feet touching the top of the sofa just below. He can feel his friend’s hands holding him steady as he twists to fit the rest of his body through the space. After a minute of finding the right position, Jonne finally makes it through, bumping his head on the window frame in the process.
“Ow,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his skull.
“You ok?”
“Yeah,” he nods, closing the window. “Just bumped my head.”
“Poor baby,” his friend coos.
“You be nice to me or else you won’t get the gifts I brought.”
His friend goes quiet at the sound of potential gifts. Jonne figured that would get him excited. Smirking to himself, the blonde plops himself down onto the lumpy sofa and begins to go through the contents of his bag. The first thing he pulls out is a battery-powered lantern. He had been meaning to bring one of these for him for some time now, but his zero income had made it difficult. Luckily, several had been donated to the shelter he volunteers at; they wouldn’t notice if one was missing.
Jonne turns the lantern on to the highest setting, illuminating the cramped storage room. The glow allows him to get a better look at his friend as well. There is a new cut on Novak’s cheek and he looks as if he hasn’t bathed in a few days. It should be no surprise though, running water was something more of a privilege for Novak these days. At least he hasn’t begun to smell yet. Turning his attention back to his bag, Jonne pulls out more items; two sandwiches, two bottles of water, a bag of Novak’s favorite chips, a pack of bandages, and several heat packs. He was very happy that he had brought the latter. Novak’s hands instantly shoot out for the chips. Jonne just laughs and allows him to take it while he busies himself with the heat pack.
“It seems less crowded in here,” Jonne observes as he tries to warm his hands.
“The Johnsons took out some of the winter stuff the other day. Sweaters, Christmas lights, shit like that,” Novak explains. He’s already halfway through the chips. Jonne almost wishes that he had brought more sandwiches as Novak was likely to scarf them both down.
“They also took some of the thicker blankets,” he continues. “So I’m going to have to deal with that.”
“Could you check the other storage rooms? Maybe one of the others has some more blankets and pillows?”
“Nah,” he shakes his head. “If I start breaking the locks on all of the windows, the building managers are just going to start asking questions and poking around. I can deal with the cold.”
The blonde lets out a heavy sigh and falls back against the sofa. He was beginning to regain feeling in his fingers, that was a good sign. His toes and his face were still numb though, so it will probably be a while before he can feel them again. Next time he comes he’ll have to bring his wool blanket. Although, with the way things are going now, he just might end up becoming the newest resident of this storage room.
Novak finishes off the bag of chips and goes for the bottle of water next. Just like the chips, he has that halfway finished in a matter of seconds. Jonne thinks that this is probably the first time he’s eaten in a couple of days. He had started a fight at the soup kitchen a couple of nights ago. The idiot had shown up drunk and tried to take a swing at an older man who had said something about Jonne. While the Finn appreciated the chivalrous gesture, he cursed Novak’s stupidity. Martha, the owner of the kitchen, had told him not to come back for another week. The next time he pulls that stunt though, he won’t be allowed to go back.
“You’re going to make yourself sick if you don’t take it slow,” he tells him. Novak rolls his eyes, but he puts the bottle down nonetheless. He trusted Jonne.
Their friendship was an odd one, but Novak was thankful for it. He’ll never quite know what it is that the Finn actually sees in him. Brandon Novak had built up quite a reputation in this town, being known as a pathetic heroin junkie. He had begun his habit in his early teens, when his drunk of a mother had kicked him out of the house. By the time he was eighteen, he was a professional addict and would do basically anything to get his fix. So it was no surprise when the cops caught him breaking into an electronics store. The judge at the time had taken pity on him, offering him probation and drug rehab instead of prison time. Novak had gotten through the rehab, but it wasn’t long before the temptations kicked back in. The next time he got caught, he served eighteen months.
The storage room he was living in now kind of reminded him of the cell he had spent all of those months in. It was cold, grey, dark, and cramped. It was comfortable though, and at least here he had a much better roommate. Jonne was the first person that he had trusted enough to allow into this little hiding spot. To be honest, he’s the first person he’s ever trusted with anything. In all of his life, most of the people he’s met has always had an agenda; always wanting something from him. Jonne was different though. When he had first met him at the soup kitchen, the Finn had come right up to him and struck up a conversation. Everyone had tried to warn him about Novak, but he didn’t seem to care. He just sincerely wanted to help him. So he let him in… now he never wanted him to leave.
“You should really get a space heater down here,” Jonne tells him as he fights back a shiver.
“Yeah, but I’d think someone would notice if I had an electric chord running up into the building. I’ll make do for now.”
Jonne smiles to him and blows his breath onto his hands, hoping to warm them further. Forgetting his growling stomach, Novak sets down his sandwich and sits next to Jonne on the sofa. He wraps his arm around the Finn’s neck and pulls him close so that his head is resting on his chest. Novak almost yelps when he feels Jonne’s icy cheek against his bare skin.
“Damn babe. Did you sit on a block of ice or something?”
“It started snowing again on the way over. Antti has the van…. You need to start coming over to my place, at least we have heat.”
“That’d be nice,” he smirks. “But I don’t think your friends would be too happy with me crashing on your couch.”
“…I don’t think that’s going to be a problem soon.”
“What do you mean?” He asks, giving Jonne a curious look. Jonne isn’t focused on him though. He has a blank look in his blue eyes as he stares straight ahead.
“Antti is leaving,” he murmurs. “I heard him talking about it a few weeks ago. He’ll be going back to Helsinki in two weeks.”
“Damn…. That sucks. Did he tell you why he’s going back?”
“He doesn’t know that I heard him,” Jonne answers with a small laugh. “He doesn’t have the balls to tell me.”
“Fucking coward,” Novak curses. He tries to comfort the blonde by running his hand slowly up and down his arm. It works as he can feel Jonne’s body relax against him. He knew how Jonne felt about his friends, so he could understand the pain he was feeling now.
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Jonne shrugs. “I guess I’m going to have to get a real job soon.”
“Are you and Larry going to stay in the house?”
“…I’m not so sure I’ll be able to anymore.”
“What do you mean? You said that his and Antti’s paycheck covered the rent. If you get a job it should be about the same, right?”
“That’s the thing though, L- Larry never came home last night.”
The Finn can’t help the hitch in his breath as he speaks. He can feel the stinging of oncoming tears, but he tries his best to hold them back. He didn’t want Novak to see him cry. Enough of his friends thought that he was some pathetic mess. For once, he would like for someone to see him in a different light.
“So?” Novak shrugs, not really seeing the problem. “He was probably out with friends.”
“He always calls, always lets me know where he is.”
“Still doesn’t mean anything though.”
“It does,” he asserts. “Antti called from work, Larry never showed up for his shift.”
“I’m not quite understanding babe.”
“It means,” Jonne begins. Its hard for him to speak, his throat is constricting. “That he’s left too.”
“Come on, you don’t know that,” he sighs. The blonde in his arms was adorable as can be, but he could get worked up over the silliest things sometimes. It was cute of him to be so worried about his friends. Jonne’s loyalty to those he cared about was one of the things he admired most about him.
“Yeah, it does.” Jonne’s voice is soft as he speaks, but there’s such a certainty in his voice that Novak can’t reply to him. “He hasn’t been happy here for a long time. The only reason he’s stayed behind this long is because he felt like he had to take care of me…. I guess he’s gotten over that though.”
The addict hating hearing Jonne talk this way. It felt like watching a puppy being kicked. It didn’t happen often, but that was mostly because Jonne was too busy taking care of him. Very rarely would the Finn ever open up to him about his own problems; he had said it made him feel selfish to burden Novak with his own problems when he had so much more on his plate. When it did happen though, Novak could never handle it well. In all of his life, the only person he’s ever had to look out for was himself. To find something he cared about made him want to protect it at all cost. It made him act impulsively and do stupid things. Right now, it made him want to track Jonne’s friends down and punch them in the face for making his friend upset.
“Hey, don’t talk like that.” Novak uses his free hand to tilt Jonne’s chin up so that he’s looking towards him. Jonne’s eyes are on him, but they’re unfocused. He knows that expression; his friend’s mind is a million miles away right now.
“Don’t talk like that,” he repeats.
“Everyone gives up on me eventually,” he whispers. “It was only a matter of time.”
“You’re a good person Jonne,” he tells him. “If they can’t see that, then they don’t deserve to have you as a friend.”
Truth be told, he knows that he doesn’t really deserve the Finn as a friend. He didn’t deserve the kind man who held him during his withdrawals, the one who held his hair as he vomited during his drinking binges, the one who never said a harsh word to him. Jonne was too good for him, he knew it. That’s why he couldn’t let it bother him when the Finn answers the way he always does.
“You’re a good friend.” Jonne smiles sadly to him, and Novak has to let that be enough.
Friendship was the best that he could hope from Jonne. Sure, there were times when it seemed as if the Finn might share his feelings, but he would never ask. He’s never had anyone quiet as good as Jonne, anyone who ever gave a damn about him. He’d hate to lose what they had just so he can act on his crush. So he’ll accept the hugs and acts of kindness, all the while hoping that the Finn will never come to his senses and realize that he’s no good.
For his part, Jonne knows what kind of person Novak is. He knows that the other man is an addict who has basically given up on himself, who lives day to day. He knows that he should be considered a lost cause, and that’s why he stayed with him. Novak was just like Christus; at least, how Christus was in the end. Jonne had loved Christus for years and for a while, he had thought that would be enough. When Christus began to fall down the wrong path, drinking and getting high non-stop, it had broken his heart. Jonne had grown up with alcoholic parents and couldn’t bear to go through that pain again. He decided to save himself instead, and the guilt has haunted him ever since. Novak was his chance to redeem himself, as selfish as that may be. The other man needed him… but he needed Novak as well.
Jonne was also aware of how Novak felt about him. The addict wasn’t the most discreet person in the world, especially if he’s been drinking. One too many drunken gropes and sloppy kisses and Jonne had gotten the idea. He didn’t quite know what to make of Novak’s little crush. He found the other man attractive enough, but there were other factors that he had to consider. First is that while Novak was a good friend now, he could be a bit unpredictable when he was high. Last time Jonne had found him strung out, he had taken a few swings at him and called him a dirty whore. Also, Jonne didn’t know if it was healthy to form a relationship with someone he had considered a replacement for his lost lover. Still, it felt nice to be in the warm embrace of someone who cared about him.
The two were quiet for a long time after that. Jonne could hear Novak’s stomach growling, but he never removed his arm to go for the sandwiches. He just sat there contentedly rubbing his hand over the Finn’s arm. He hopes that its helping Jonne to take his mind off his troubles, but he’s still got that faraway look in his eyes. It’ll probably take more than a few kind words to bring him back from wherever he was.
Blue lights flash suddenly through the room, making Novak jump. He puts his finger to his lips, silently telling Jonne to keep quiet as he peeks through the window into the alleyway. After a tense moment, the blue lights disappear and Novak lets out a loud sigh of relief. The Finn watches as his friend plops back down on the sofa with a content smile on his face.
“I thought they’d never leave,” he sighs.
“What was that about out there anyway?” Jonne asks. His voice is normal again, as if he’s come out of his trance. “I thought that they found your hiding place.”
“Nah,” he shakes his head. “They’ve been out there all day. Some weird shit went down this morning.”
“What do you mean?”
Novak smiles and leans in close to Jonne. He’s been dying to tell someone about this all day.
“So I was on my way back here this morning around five, five-thirty in the morning. I’m almost back when I hear someone in the alley down there. I thought it was weird because who the fuck is outside at this time, so I take a peek around the corner and I see this person in all black tossing around garbage bags. At first I thought it was just the trash man, but then I see a foot underneath the bags.”
“You saw a foot?” Jonne repeats. “What does that mean?”
“…There was someone underneath the bags,” Novak tells him in almost a whisper. “But that’s not the worst part.”
“What’s the worst part then?”
“They started pouring gas onto the bags and lit a match.”
“W- what?”
“They lit a match,” he repeats. “And the whole thing went up in flames.”
The Finn’s jaw drops as Novak makes a gesture of the flames with his arms. The addict was smirking, but Jonne was horrified. He had witnessed someone burning a body, a fucking murder! How the hell could he be reacting so calmly to it? If it were him, Jonne would have shit himself.
“You saw a fucking murder!” Jonne exclaims. Mostly he just needed to say it out loud.
“I didn’t say it was a murder,” he shrugs.
“You saw someone burning a body!”
“Doesn’t mean that it was a murder though.” Jonne gives him a disbelieving look and Novak realizes how stupid his statement sounded. “…Alright, it probably was,” he mumbles.
“Did you get a good look at the person?”
“Not really,” he admits, looking away from Jonne. His pretty blue eyes were boring holes into him, making him uncomfortable. He knew what this look meant; disappointment.
“Come on, think about it,” he presses.
“I… I don’t know,” he shrugs. “All I saw was a black coat and black pants.” From the corner of his eye, he can see Jonne still staring at him. “Don’t look at me like that…. I called the cops about the fire.”
“Did you tell them what you saw?”
“No,” he answers quickly. “I called from the payphone down the street and didn’t leave my name.”
“Novak,” Jonne says his name tenderly. He takes hold of the other man’s hand and holds it tightly. The addict still won’t look at him. “Kulta, you have to do the right thing. You have to tell the police what you saw.”
“I didn’t see anything though,” he asserts. “I didn’t get a look at the guy’s face and all I saw was a foot underneath the trash…. Besides, I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to cops.”
His words make Jonne curious, but after a moment he realizes what they meant. Biting on his lower lip, he slowly turns Novak’s hand over. He keeps a tight hold of him with one hand while his fingers lightly touch his wrist. The fingers trail upwards in a ghostly touch that makes Novak shiver. The touch wasn’t meant to arouse though, it was searching. Novak hisses when his index finger traces over the fresh puncture wound, circling around the blackish skin.
“You’ve been using again.” The Finn’s voice is almost a whisper, but Novak can still hear the saddened tone. He’s let Jonne down again and he hates himself for it, but he just can’t help himself.
“…Yeah,” he nods. There was no point in denying it. He couldn’t lie to Jonne if he tried. “A- are you mad?”
“I… I’m upset,” Jonne sighs. “You made it four weeks though…. That’s better than last time.”
“You’re not going to leave now, are you?”
Novak’s eyes look towards the blonde, waiting for his answer. Jonne’s eyes are still glued to the track marks on his veins, his fingers lightly tracing over the skin. He’s got that faraway look in his eyes again. The addict remembers that he had done that the last time he had found the marks on his skin. He always wondered where Jonne’s mind went during these times, but he would never ask.
“No,” Jonne answers. “I’m not going to leave. You need me right now.”
“Thank you,” he whispers, taking the Finn into a warm hug. Once again, he knows that this is something that he doesn’t deserve from Jonne, but he’s thankful for it all the same.
“I still think that you need to talk to the cops though,” he murmurs.
Novak rolls his eyes and lets out a groan. That was a hell of a way to avoid the topic at hand.
“There’s nothing to tell,” he sighs. “They’ve already come around and found the body. They’ll find out who he is and who killed him. They don’t need me.”
“It’s the right thing to do Brandon, you know that.”
“Yeah…. I’ve never really been one to do the ‘right thing’ though.”
“No… I suppose not.”
Jonne lets go of his hand and pulls back to the other side of the sofa. For a moment, Novak doesn’t know whether he should laugh or cry. Finding out that he had slipped into his habits didn’t disappoint Jonne, but something like this did? He wasn’t trying to upset his Finn. Novak just knew how the police worked. He would tell them what little he knew, they would take one look at him and see all of the signs of a junkie, and the whole thing would be dismissed. What’s more, he would be risking his little hideout if he came forward. It was wintertime in West Chester, and a warm place to sleep was something that he wasn’t willing to give up. All in all, it just wasn’t worth the risk.
Still, to hear the disapproval in Jonne’s voice had hurt. The blonde was his only friend in the world, the only person who gave a damn. He didn’t want to lose him. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Novak scoots closer to Jonne. The Finn looks up just in time to see the body launching itself at him, taking him into another tight hug. Strong arms wrap tightly around his lithe frame and pulled him close against a bare chest. Novak’s chin rests on his shoulder and he can feel his warm breath against his ear…. For a moment, Jonne can’t help but close his eyes and think about how nice it is to be held like this. It had been a long time.
“Don’t hate me,” Novak whispers, his lips brushing against Jonne’s ear. “Don’t give up on me yet.”
The guilt washes over him suddenly and he can feel the tears springing to his eyes again. He can remember saying those exact words to his friends over these past few years and how it never seemed to help. Everyone gave up on him eventually…. But he wouldn’t do that to Novak. He’s vowed to be better than that, to never give up on someone who needed him. So he closes his eyes, forces back his tears and returns the embrace. He can hear Novak let out a contended sigh and he knows that he’s done the right thing. Friends never give up on each other…. Larry used to know that.
Detective Murphy was not happy. His shift had ended an hour ago, yet here he was, walking slowly through the hallways of the medical examiner’s office to check out some stiff that shouldn’t even be his. He had been sitting at his desk, pouring himself into his current case-load when his captain had approached him and told him to report to the medical examiner. Murphy hadn’t really wanted to. His mind and his body were exhausted from his constant working these past several weeks. There had been a string of ritualistic-like murders in the city over the course of several months. It was the kind of case that could make this young detective’s career, but it had been taking its toll on him. No two victims were the same, aside from being male, and every trail he followed lead to a dead end. Murphy has the nagging suspicion that his captain had just given him this task as some form of distraction. No matter though; he’ll do as he’s told and then get back to his case.
Pushing through the double doors, he’s lead into the cold morgue, where Doctor Warner is speaking softly into her tape recorder. The doctor smiles and nods to him, but she keeps speaking into the recorder. Detective Murphy’s eyes shift from her to the metal table, where a charred, twisted form is lying. The sight of it should be horrifying, but three years on the job and he’s already seen enough to make him numb to these kind of things.
“Cilian,” Warner greets, setting her tape recorder on the lab table. “I’m surprised they sent you to me.”
“You and me both,” the detective sighs. “So tell me, what exactly am I looking at?” He gestures to the blackened body.
“This,” she begins, clearing her throat, “was a person. The local coroner determined him to be male, somewhere in his early twenties.”
“Local?” He repeats. “What do you mean by that?”
“The victim died in West Chester, a township not too far from here,” she explains.
“What the hell are we doing with him then?”
“The township’s coroner didn’t have the resources that we do to handle something like this.”
“What’s there to handle?” He scoffs. “From the looks of it, he died in a fire.”
“At first glance, yes,” she nods, rolling her eyes slightly. “But there was no smoke in the lungs.”
This caught Murphy’s attention. His eyes peak up curiously and he sees a satisfied smirk on Warner’s lips. She had always thought him to be just a little too cocky.
“Got your attention yet?” She asks.
“I’m all ears,” he smiles to her.
“As I was saying, there was no smoke in the lungs, so the fire wasn’t what killed him.”
“The fire was just to get rid of the evidence then,” he nods, looking back over the body. “Any idea what killed him then?”
Her eyes look back down towards the man lying on the metal slab. She searches over the areas of charred skin until she finds the wound. Pressing her gloved finger to the wound, she gestures for Detective Murphy to look.
“These holes here, appear to be significantly deep stab wounds. Unfortunately for him, they broke through his jugular vein.”
“So he bled out then?”
“…You could say that.”
“What do you mean?” He asks, raising his eyebrow curiously.
“There was massive blood loss, but the crime scene report I received had said that there was very little blood at the scene. I suspected that his body was probably dumped at the scene, but witnesses reported hearing some kind of scuffle going on. He was killed where they found him… his blood is just gone though.”
Something inside Detective Murphy’s head clicked suddenly and he was beginning to understand why his captain had sent him here. He quickly asks for the case file and she gestures to the folder on the other table next to her recorder. Picking it up, his eyes quickly scan over the file. All that he really sees though are the initial coroner’s reports, photos of the crime scene, and different shots of the body as it was found. The mentioning of the blood loss had made him think of his ritual killer, but this couldn’t be the work of the same person. The other killings had been much more methodical. Still… it did seem similar. Perhaps the killer had been changing their methods?
“Something wrong Cilian?” She asks.
“No,” he shakes his head. Damn… His case had been turning cold and he’d been hoping for some new development. A new victim wouldn’t exactly have been the best break, but at the moment he was desperate for anything.
“There’s something else you should see,” she continues. Cilian puts down the file and looks back towards the body.
Doctor Warner’s hands reach for two metal bars that were on either sides of the man’s head. She takes them away and instantly the head falls to the left with a loud thud. Murphy jumps a little at the sound, but he moves forward to get a closer look. The sight is almost too sickening for him. The way that the head is lying on the table is far too unnatural.
“What the hell am I looking at?” He murmurs.
“His neck was snapped,” she explains. “Almost clean off.”
Indeed it was, he thinks. The body was lying flat on its back, but the head is lying limply to the side, the mouth touching the table.
“Could it have happened when the body was dumped?”
“Possibly,” she shrugs. “But it would have taken a lot of force to cause a break this severe.”
“Jesus. How bad is it?”
“If I were to sit him up, I would be able to turn the head almost completely around.”
“Damn…,” he mutters under his breath.
“Also, I found signs of deep muscle contusions on his cheeks. Now look at this,” she puts her finger onto the cheek and pulls back the black skin, revealing a deep slit. “There were puncture wounds in his cheek that began to clot.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that someone had gripped his face and dug their nails into his flesh.”
“…You mean it was a person that snapped his neck?”
“I’ve never met anyone with the strength to do something like this… but yes,” she nods. “Someone had grabbed hold of him and snapped his neck.”
“Jesus Christ,” he whispers. “What the hell happened to this guy?”
“If it makes you feel any better, he did try to fight back.”
“Really now?” He’s able to tear his eyes away from the disgusting, twisted neck in order to look back at her. She’s moving over to his right side and takes hold of his wrist. She lifts the hand up and takes a light hold of his index finger. Cilian squints his eyes and he sees that unlike the rest of the body, the finger is an actual flesh tone.
“I don’t know how,” she says, “but somehow, this finger managed to survive the fire. I scraped the fingernail and found skin and a hair follicle. I’ll run it through the database and hopefully we’ll find a match.”
“Were you able to get a print?”
“Thankfully yes,” she nods. “I’ve already sent that out, but we’re also searching dental records so hopefully we’ll have an I.D. on him soon…. I’d hate for him to be lying here without a name.”
“So… drained of blood, snapped neck, lit on fire, and no I.D. Damn, I’ve got my work cut out for me,” he sighs.
“You’re taking the case then?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.
“My captain implied that this one is pretty much mine,” he explains. “Besides, my ritual killer hasn’t struck in a few weeks. I can spare some time for a small town murder.”
“Good luck to you then,” she smiles. “I’ll call if I get any hits off the DNA or fingerprints.”
“Appreciate it,” he tells her.
Detective Murphy gives the doctor one last smile before taking his leave. This hadn’t been what he was expecting. When his captain sent him down here, he thought it nothing more than a nuisance, something keeping him from his real work, but there was something else now. He thinks about his ritual killer, and the methods of his work… but then his mind turns to an old similar case that had come up in his investigation. It was a quadruple homicide in Newark, New Jersey. The victims had their throats slashed, necks broken and had been burned to cover the evidence. He knew it was probably a long shot, but it was worth looking into. For all he knew, the monster that had been terrorizing the north-east for the past year.
The snow flakes fell gently that night. One of the tiny ice crystals landed on Bam’s eyelash, giving him a blurred view of the intricate hexagonal patterns before he wiped it away. The boy wasn’t concerned with the cold and snowflakes right now. His mind was concentrating on the yellow ball in his hand and the curious look in his friend’s eyes. Licking the corner of his lips, Bam raises the ball up flat on his palm and strikes it hard. The ball flies into the air only to be caught by the white rope, pulling it around the pole in a clockwise direction. Ville’s green eyes just follow the ball’s path with mild curiosity. Bam just sighs in frustration.
“You’re not supposed to let it go all the way around,” he tells her. He reaches out and catches the ball before it can make a third rotation around the pole.
“Why not?” She asks.
“Because that’s how you play. When I hit the ball, you hit it back and try to wrap it around the pole,” he explains.
Bam raises the ball once more and hits it more gently this time. When the ball comes close, Ville raises both hands and swats at it. She makes contact but almost loses her footing. The boy can’t help but smirk at the cuteness of her actions. She always seemed to carry herself with a certain smoothness and grace, it was good to see she could be clumsy as well. The ball comes back towards him and Bam punches it with his fist. It makes one lap around the pole before Ville strikes at it again. She’s able to hit it harder this time and soon, the two begin a good rhythm.
“What’s the point of this game?” She asks when she misses the ball again.
“To be the first to get it around the pole,” he answers.
“But why? What are you trying to accomplish?”
“I don’t know,” Bam shrugs. “Its just supposed to be for fun. Like the swings; there’s no point to it.”
This girl was starting to worry him. The fact that she couldn’t grasp the concept of fun and play was unnerving to him. He could understand if she’s never played tether ball before, but she made it sound like some sort of menial task.
“So what do you like to play?” He asks her, hitting the ball particularly hard this time. It wrapped around the pole twice before she caught it again.
“What do you mean?”
“Play,” he repeats. “Like, do you have a favorite video game?”
“I’ve never played one before.” She hits the ball back, making it wrap halfway around.
“Board games?” She shakes her head. “A doll?”
“I’ve never had one,” she admits with an uncaring shrug. Now that was very odd. There wasn’t one girl that Bam knew who didn’t have at least one Barbie or baby doll in their life.
“So what do you normally do for fun then?”
“I don’t know…. I like puzzles. I like to draw.”
“That’s cool,” Bam nods. He stops a moment to think about her hobby, and his eyes fall towards the black notebook at her feet, the one she always kept away from him.
“Is that what your notebook is for?” He asks. Green eyes shoot towards him instantly. “C- can I see it?”
The ball comes back towards Ville. Narrowing her eyes, she raises her fist and strikes the ball exceptionally hard. Bam yelps as he ducks out of the way of the speeding yellow sphere. It speeds around the pole, wrapping the tether around five times before it can go no more. Mouth agape, Bam looks back towards his friend, but her expression is stoic and uncaring.
“I guess I win,” she shrugs.
“I- I guess so,” he agrees with a nervous laugh.
“That was… fun,” she tells him, though it seemed as if she were forcing the words. “Do you want to play again?”
“We don’t have to. We could play on the swings again if you want?”
“It’s not too cold for you?”
Though Bam could feel a shiver coming on, he was handling the cold much better than he had earlier. Before coming out, he had changed into a thicker pair of socks, put on a pair of gloves and wrapped a scarf around his neck. He was sure that he looked a little silly wrapped head to toe, but avoiding a cold would be his reward. At the moment, he’s more worried about Ville. That large hoodie she’s wearing has slipped off of her shoulder, exposing her smooth, pale skin. The chill wind doesn’t seem to be affecting her though. He hasn’t seen her shiver.
“I’m fine… but aren’t you cold?”
“I don’t get cold, remember?”
“You’re weird,” he laughs, throwing his arm over her shoulder.
“I know,” she smiles, leaning into him.
The cold breeze brings a strong smell to Bam’s nostrils, making him cringe. Ville doesn’t seem to take notice, and after a moment, he realizes why; it was coming from her. With her hair so close to his nose, he’s overwhelmed by a rotting stench. The only thing he can compare it to is when Jess had cut his arm and it became infected. Rotting flesh. That mixed with the garbage smell of her hoodie is too much for Bam and he pulls away from her, covering his nose with his hand.
“Is something wrong?”
“You stink.”
The words leave Bam’s mouth before he can stop them. Immediately his eyes shoot up in horror and his cheeks flush red. He didn’t mean to offend her like that. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Ville’s feelings.
“I’m sorry!” He apologizes quickly. “I didn’t mean-”
“Its ok Bam,” Ville cuts him off. “You don’t have to apologize.” Bam watches as she raises her arm up to her nose, taking a whiff of her jacket. Her little upturned nose scrunches up and she takes her arm away.
“I suppose I do smell a little bit. Its been a while since I last bathed.”
“Your mom doesn’t make you everyday?” She shrugs her shoulder and shakes her head. “Damn…. When I was a kid, my mom used to have to wrestle me into the bathtub every night,” he laughs.
“You’re still a kid. Does she still do that?”
“Not really….” He tries to think about the last time Ape made him clean his room or checked his homework. He thinks about the dishes piled up in the sink. “She kind of stopped caring about those things.”
“Tarja doesn’t care about those things either. Something we have in common I suppose.”
“Yeah,” he nods. Neglect probably wasn’t the best thing to bond over, but still Bam can’t help the small smile from forming on his lips. He liked sharing things with her.
“Come on,” she says, taking his hand. “Lets go swing before you have to go home.”
“So you do like playing on the swings then?” Bam smirks. She had seemed so resistant to them the night before, so it made him happy to know he had changed her mind.
“Yes,” she nods. “Its fun.”
For some reason the words sound weird coming from her, as if she were forcing them. Maybe she was though. Maybe she was only doing this for him? Even if she was though, Bam was glad to play with her. He was glad that she wasn’t being as serious and aloof anymore and she was beginning to open up to him. If the swings were what it took to get her to act more like a kid, then he was happy to swing with her.
The two take their seats on the black swings and begin to kick their legs. They start out slow but soon they are pumping their legs hard, racing to see who can get to the highest point first. Ville is winning the race so far. Her long legs are pointed out high in the air and for a moment, Bam can’t help but think that she’ll fly over the top. He’s actually hoping for that; he’s always thought that would be cool to see. So he watches her as she goes higher and higher, but she never seems to make it over.
“Do you think you can go over the top?” Bam asks, trying to go higher.
“Why would I do that?”
“Just to see if you could,” he replies. “No one’s ever done it before. You could be the first.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “You could be famous then. A legend among kids everywhere. Ville, the girl who went over the top of the swings. You could be on the news and everything.” He knows that he’s over exaggerating and sounding cheesy, but its worth it to see her laugh and smile.
She doesn’t smile though. Instead her pretty face becomes a blank expression and she turns away. Bam keeps his eyes on her and watches as she makes it to the highest point. He’s sure that this time she’s going to go over. With her legs pointed out, she closes her eyes and falls back towards the ground. The force sends her up higher and higher until he’s sure that she’s about to do it…. Just as she is about to cross the bar though, her hands let go of the chains and her body flies forward. It all happens too fast for Bam to react and he’s left staring as she sails through the air. Something is wrong though. Last time she had shifted to land on her feet like a cat. This time though, she’s just falling to the earth with her head back and arms stretched out; a little falling angel. When she hits the ground, the realization of what she’s done finally hits Bam.
“Ville!” He screams her name.
Bam puts his feet out towards the ground and skids to a stop. With his heart racing, he runs quickly to where Ville had landed. She’s still lying there in the snow, her arms stretched out beside her and she isn’t moving. Bam kneels down by her side, but her eyes are closed.
“Ville! Oh my God!” Bam grabs hold of her shoulders and tries to shake her, but she won’t move. “Ville!”
There’s a stinging in Bam’s eyes and he knows that the tears are soon to come. Please be ok! He shakes her again, but she still won’t respond. “Wake up!”
Eyelids shoot open and sparkling emerald meets sapphire. “V- Ville?”
“Yes Bam?”
“You’re ok?” He doesn’t give the girl time to answer before he scoops up her small torso and brings her into a crushing hug. Not even the rotting smell can keep him embracing her tightly.
“I’m alright Bam,” her voice whispers in his ear. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You scared the shit out of me!” Bam scolds, though he doesn’t loosen his grip around her. “I thought you were hurt.”
“Don’t cry Bam,” she whispers soothingly, her fingers tracing up and down his spine. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying,” he protests, suddenly becoming very angry. He loosens his grip on her, but only enough so that he can look her in the eyes. Bam didn’t want to let go of her completely though. He doesn’t want to lose his only friend.
“Why the hell did you do that!? You could have been hurt!”
“Because I could,” she replies simply. “Its just like flying.”
Bam doesn’t know what to say to that. Those were her words from the night before, when she had landed so gracefully on her feet. She had the ability to do it again, to land safely, but she didn’t do it. Instead she chose to hit the ground with full force where she could have been hurt or worse. Bam’s eyes glance quickly at the hole in her palm, from where she had impaled herself with the sharpened stick.
“V-Ville… why do you hurt yourself?” He knows that he probably shouldn’t ask that question, it was far too personal. He wanted to know though. He wanted to know why his friend was so numb to pain that she seemed welcomed it.
Because I need it. I deserve it. She won’t speak these words though. She’s already frightened Bam enough.
“I don’t know,” she answers. She looks away from Bam, up towards the black sky where millions of tiny white flakes were falling gently to the ground.
“Don’t hurt yourself anymore Ville,” Bam commands, though it sounds more like pleading. “You’re my friend…. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I’m sorry Bam,” she apologizes softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Well, you did.”
Truth be told, a lot of things about Ville had been scaring him this evening. The way she spoke about hurting those who picked on Bam, the lack of normalcy in her home life, and of course the way she could hurt herself without so much as flinching. Bam was scared alright, but he was more scared for Ville than anything. What the hell was going on in this girl’s life that made her act this way? What could he do to save her?
“I won’t hurt myself Bam,” she promises. Just for him, she will make this promise… though she’s not sure if she’ll be able to keep it. Every time she closes her eyes she sees their faces. She sees their cold, dead eyes staring back at her, asking her why. It’ll be hard to keep her promise.
Ville’s eyes look upward and sees that Bam is still watching her. There is a look of concern in those blue eyes that disturbs Ville. She’s not used to people looking at her this way. Well, there is Tarja, but she has her own reasons. When she looks at Ville this way, she doesn’t actually see Ville; she sees the child she lost years ago and the chance she never had to be a mother. Bam is different though…. He may not see Ville for everything she is, but he’s seen a glimpse into the darker parts. He’s seen it, and he wants to be let in further to Ville’s life so he could help her. Its been a long time since Ville had let anyone in.
Raising up, Ville closes her eyes and places her lips softly against Bam’s. The boy’s heart skips a beat when he feels her soft lips against his own. The kiss is brief, but Bam couldn’t overcome his shock when she sat up and wrapped her arms around him…. His first kiss.
“You’re a good friend Bam.”
Shakily, Bam’s arms wrap around Ville’s torso once more, returning her embrace. The two sit there, holding each other tightly with the snowflakes falling around them. Though Bam is overwhelmed by confusion, happiness, and sadness, he can’t stop from glancing back towards the swings. The chain of Ville’s swing was wrapped around the top bar. Even with the cute girl in his arms, all Bam could think was that she had been so close. Ville, the girl who could have gone over the top, but chose not to. The girl who chose pain instead of fame. The girl who gave him his first kiss.
====================================================================================
comments are love
Summary: Bam is a lonely boy who finds his first real friend in the new girl next door. But this girl isn't all that she seems...
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. This is just my imagination, inspired by a wonderful novel
A/N: hey guys. finally got the time to squeeze out another update of this story (for anyone who's still reading). I will be working on Just A Whore, but I've got exams coming up so it might be a little while longer.
A/N: Now, as for this story, I just want to explain something in order to avoid confusion. Yes, it was established in the last chapter that Ville is a boy, but being as only one character knows this, he will still be referred to as a girl for a while longer. This won't last forever, but it is important to the plot. Thank you, and enjoy ^_^
Previous Chapter
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Jonne’s fingers and toes were numb by the time he had reached his destination. The walk wasn’t terribly long, about fifteen or twenty minutes, but it had begun to snow again. His body should be more equipped to handle the cold, but perhaps he had been getting too used to the American weather. The harsh winds never used to bother him like this. In the back of his mind, he curses Antti for taking the van. He pushes that thought out of his mind though. He’s used the car for the past two nights, it wouldn’t have been fair to take it again and make Antti walk twice the distance.
There are blue flashing lights coming from the building around the corner. Jonne stops in his tracks, stricken by fear. Shit! They had found it. Overcoming his fear, the Finn begins to sprint in the direction of the flashing lights, the winter wind stinging his red cheeks. His heart pounds in his chest as he rounds the corner and comes face to face with the lights of the police car…. For a moment, he can’t help but laugh. He had gotten himself so worked up and scared, and it wasn’t even what he had thought.
In the tight alleyway of this small apartment building, there was a line of yellow tape. On the other side are two men in blue uniforms and a couple of people in black jackets taking photographs. Something had happened here, but not what he was expecting. If they had found it, found the entrance, then there wouldn’t be this big of a fuss. Jonne laughs at his foolishness, at how worried he had become. One of the police officers on the other side of the tape hears his laugh and narrows his eyes towards him. The cop shakes his head and tells the blonde to move along. Jonne nods to the man and takes off.
What he was looking for was on the opposite side of the building. He looks over his shoulder, making sure that no one was around before ducking into the alleyway. The Finn keeps his eyes focused on the bottom of the building, just where the brick meets the ground, and begins to count. He counts the rectangular basement windows until he reaches the fifth, the one with a crack in the glass. Jonne kneels down and reaches out his frozen hand to knock on the glass; two quick, three long. There’s no response at first, but that isn’t unusual. He tries again, but there is still no response. When he raises his hand to try a third time though, he hears a whisper.
“Jonne… is that you?”
“Who else would it be?”
There is the sound of muffled laughter and the window opens inward. Jonne tells his friend to stand back as he shoves his bag in first. The Finn positions himself on the ground so that he’s lying on his stomach and begins to go through the window, feet first. It’s times like these that he’s thankful that he is so small. Fitting through this tight space is no easy task; he almost broke his ankle the first time he attempted it. His lower body is through the window, his feet touching the top of the sofa just below. He can feel his friend’s hands holding him steady as he twists to fit the rest of his body through the space. After a minute of finding the right position, Jonne finally makes it through, bumping his head on the window frame in the process.
“Ow,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his skull.
“You ok?”
“Yeah,” he nods, closing the window. “Just bumped my head.”
“Poor baby,” his friend coos.
“You be nice to me or else you won’t get the gifts I brought.”
His friend goes quiet at the sound of potential gifts. Jonne figured that would get him excited. Smirking to himself, the blonde plops himself down onto the lumpy sofa and begins to go through the contents of his bag. The first thing he pulls out is a battery-powered lantern. He had been meaning to bring one of these for him for some time now, but his zero income had made it difficult. Luckily, several had been donated to the shelter he volunteers at; they wouldn’t notice if one was missing.
Jonne turns the lantern on to the highest setting, illuminating the cramped storage room. The glow allows him to get a better look at his friend as well. There is a new cut on Novak’s cheek and he looks as if he hasn’t bathed in a few days. It should be no surprise though, running water was something more of a privilege for Novak these days. At least he hasn’t begun to smell yet. Turning his attention back to his bag, Jonne pulls out more items; two sandwiches, two bottles of water, a bag of Novak’s favorite chips, a pack of bandages, and several heat packs. He was very happy that he had brought the latter. Novak’s hands instantly shoot out for the chips. Jonne just laughs and allows him to take it while he busies himself with the heat pack.
“It seems less crowded in here,” Jonne observes as he tries to warm his hands.
“The Johnsons took out some of the winter stuff the other day. Sweaters, Christmas lights, shit like that,” Novak explains. He’s already halfway through the chips. Jonne almost wishes that he had brought more sandwiches as Novak was likely to scarf them both down.
“They also took some of the thicker blankets,” he continues. “So I’m going to have to deal with that.”
“Could you check the other storage rooms? Maybe one of the others has some more blankets and pillows?”
“Nah,” he shakes his head. “If I start breaking the locks on all of the windows, the building managers are just going to start asking questions and poking around. I can deal with the cold.”
The blonde lets out a heavy sigh and falls back against the sofa. He was beginning to regain feeling in his fingers, that was a good sign. His toes and his face were still numb though, so it will probably be a while before he can feel them again. Next time he comes he’ll have to bring his wool blanket. Although, with the way things are going now, he just might end up becoming the newest resident of this storage room.
Novak finishes off the bag of chips and goes for the bottle of water next. Just like the chips, he has that halfway finished in a matter of seconds. Jonne thinks that this is probably the first time he’s eaten in a couple of days. He had started a fight at the soup kitchen a couple of nights ago. The idiot had shown up drunk and tried to take a swing at an older man who had said something about Jonne. While the Finn appreciated the chivalrous gesture, he cursed Novak’s stupidity. Martha, the owner of the kitchen, had told him not to come back for another week. The next time he pulls that stunt though, he won’t be allowed to go back.
“You’re going to make yourself sick if you don’t take it slow,” he tells him. Novak rolls his eyes, but he puts the bottle down nonetheless. He trusted Jonne.
Their friendship was an odd one, but Novak was thankful for it. He’ll never quite know what it is that the Finn actually sees in him. Brandon Novak had built up quite a reputation in this town, being known as a pathetic heroin junkie. He had begun his habit in his early teens, when his drunk of a mother had kicked him out of the house. By the time he was eighteen, he was a professional addict and would do basically anything to get his fix. So it was no surprise when the cops caught him breaking into an electronics store. The judge at the time had taken pity on him, offering him probation and drug rehab instead of prison time. Novak had gotten through the rehab, but it wasn’t long before the temptations kicked back in. The next time he got caught, he served eighteen months.
The storage room he was living in now kind of reminded him of the cell he had spent all of those months in. It was cold, grey, dark, and cramped. It was comfortable though, and at least here he had a much better roommate. Jonne was the first person that he had trusted enough to allow into this little hiding spot. To be honest, he’s the first person he’s ever trusted with anything. In all of his life, most of the people he’s met has always had an agenda; always wanting something from him. Jonne was different though. When he had first met him at the soup kitchen, the Finn had come right up to him and struck up a conversation. Everyone had tried to warn him about Novak, but he didn’t seem to care. He just sincerely wanted to help him. So he let him in… now he never wanted him to leave.
“You should really get a space heater down here,” Jonne tells him as he fights back a shiver.
“Yeah, but I’d think someone would notice if I had an electric chord running up into the building. I’ll make do for now.”
Jonne smiles to him and blows his breath onto his hands, hoping to warm them further. Forgetting his growling stomach, Novak sets down his sandwich and sits next to Jonne on the sofa. He wraps his arm around the Finn’s neck and pulls him close so that his head is resting on his chest. Novak almost yelps when he feels Jonne’s icy cheek against his bare skin.
“Damn babe. Did you sit on a block of ice or something?”
“It started snowing again on the way over. Antti has the van…. You need to start coming over to my place, at least we have heat.”
“That’d be nice,” he smirks. “But I don’t think your friends would be too happy with me crashing on your couch.”
“…I don’t think that’s going to be a problem soon.”
“What do you mean?” He asks, giving Jonne a curious look. Jonne isn’t focused on him though. He has a blank look in his blue eyes as he stares straight ahead.
“Antti is leaving,” he murmurs. “I heard him talking about it a few weeks ago. He’ll be going back to Helsinki in two weeks.”
“Damn…. That sucks. Did he tell you why he’s going back?”
“He doesn’t know that I heard him,” Jonne answers with a small laugh. “He doesn’t have the balls to tell me.”
“Fucking coward,” Novak curses. He tries to comfort the blonde by running his hand slowly up and down his arm. It works as he can feel Jonne’s body relax against him. He knew how Jonne felt about his friends, so he could understand the pain he was feeling now.
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Jonne shrugs. “I guess I’m going to have to get a real job soon.”
“Are you and Larry going to stay in the house?”
“…I’m not so sure I’ll be able to anymore.”
“What do you mean? You said that his and Antti’s paycheck covered the rent. If you get a job it should be about the same, right?”
“That’s the thing though, L- Larry never came home last night.”
The Finn can’t help the hitch in his breath as he speaks. He can feel the stinging of oncoming tears, but he tries his best to hold them back. He didn’t want Novak to see him cry. Enough of his friends thought that he was some pathetic mess. For once, he would like for someone to see him in a different light.
“So?” Novak shrugs, not really seeing the problem. “He was probably out with friends.”
“He always calls, always lets me know where he is.”
“Still doesn’t mean anything though.”
“It does,” he asserts. “Antti called from work, Larry never showed up for his shift.”
“I’m not quite understanding babe.”
“It means,” Jonne begins. Its hard for him to speak, his throat is constricting. “That he’s left too.”
“Come on, you don’t know that,” he sighs. The blonde in his arms was adorable as can be, but he could get worked up over the silliest things sometimes. It was cute of him to be so worried about his friends. Jonne’s loyalty to those he cared about was one of the things he admired most about him.
“Yeah, it does.” Jonne’s voice is soft as he speaks, but there’s such a certainty in his voice that Novak can’t reply to him. “He hasn’t been happy here for a long time. The only reason he’s stayed behind this long is because he felt like he had to take care of me…. I guess he’s gotten over that though.”
The addict hating hearing Jonne talk this way. It felt like watching a puppy being kicked. It didn’t happen often, but that was mostly because Jonne was too busy taking care of him. Very rarely would the Finn ever open up to him about his own problems; he had said it made him feel selfish to burden Novak with his own problems when he had so much more on his plate. When it did happen though, Novak could never handle it well. In all of his life, the only person he’s ever had to look out for was himself. To find something he cared about made him want to protect it at all cost. It made him act impulsively and do stupid things. Right now, it made him want to track Jonne’s friends down and punch them in the face for making his friend upset.
“Hey, don’t talk like that.” Novak uses his free hand to tilt Jonne’s chin up so that he’s looking towards him. Jonne’s eyes are on him, but they’re unfocused. He knows that expression; his friend’s mind is a million miles away right now.
“Don’t talk like that,” he repeats.
“Everyone gives up on me eventually,” he whispers. “It was only a matter of time.”
“You’re a good person Jonne,” he tells him. “If they can’t see that, then they don’t deserve to have you as a friend.”
Truth be told, he knows that he doesn’t really deserve the Finn as a friend. He didn’t deserve the kind man who held him during his withdrawals, the one who held his hair as he vomited during his drinking binges, the one who never said a harsh word to him. Jonne was too good for him, he knew it. That’s why he couldn’t let it bother him when the Finn answers the way he always does.
“You’re a good friend.” Jonne smiles sadly to him, and Novak has to let that be enough.
Friendship was the best that he could hope from Jonne. Sure, there were times when it seemed as if the Finn might share his feelings, but he would never ask. He’s never had anyone quiet as good as Jonne, anyone who ever gave a damn about him. He’d hate to lose what they had just so he can act on his crush. So he’ll accept the hugs and acts of kindness, all the while hoping that the Finn will never come to his senses and realize that he’s no good.
For his part, Jonne knows what kind of person Novak is. He knows that the other man is an addict who has basically given up on himself, who lives day to day. He knows that he should be considered a lost cause, and that’s why he stayed with him. Novak was just like Christus; at least, how Christus was in the end. Jonne had loved Christus for years and for a while, he had thought that would be enough. When Christus began to fall down the wrong path, drinking and getting high non-stop, it had broken his heart. Jonne had grown up with alcoholic parents and couldn’t bear to go through that pain again. He decided to save himself instead, and the guilt has haunted him ever since. Novak was his chance to redeem himself, as selfish as that may be. The other man needed him… but he needed Novak as well.
Jonne was also aware of how Novak felt about him. The addict wasn’t the most discreet person in the world, especially if he’s been drinking. One too many drunken gropes and sloppy kisses and Jonne had gotten the idea. He didn’t quite know what to make of Novak’s little crush. He found the other man attractive enough, but there were other factors that he had to consider. First is that while Novak was a good friend now, he could be a bit unpredictable when he was high. Last time Jonne had found him strung out, he had taken a few swings at him and called him a dirty whore. Also, Jonne didn’t know if it was healthy to form a relationship with someone he had considered a replacement for his lost lover. Still, it felt nice to be in the warm embrace of someone who cared about him.
The two were quiet for a long time after that. Jonne could hear Novak’s stomach growling, but he never removed his arm to go for the sandwiches. He just sat there contentedly rubbing his hand over the Finn’s arm. He hopes that its helping Jonne to take his mind off his troubles, but he’s still got that faraway look in his eyes. It’ll probably take more than a few kind words to bring him back from wherever he was.
Blue lights flash suddenly through the room, making Novak jump. He puts his finger to his lips, silently telling Jonne to keep quiet as he peeks through the window into the alleyway. After a tense moment, the blue lights disappear and Novak lets out a loud sigh of relief. The Finn watches as his friend plops back down on the sofa with a content smile on his face.
“I thought they’d never leave,” he sighs.
“What was that about out there anyway?” Jonne asks. His voice is normal again, as if he’s come out of his trance. “I thought that they found your hiding place.”
“Nah,” he shakes his head. “They’ve been out there all day. Some weird shit went down this morning.”
“What do you mean?”
Novak smiles and leans in close to Jonne. He’s been dying to tell someone about this all day.
“So I was on my way back here this morning around five, five-thirty in the morning. I’m almost back when I hear someone in the alley down there. I thought it was weird because who the fuck is outside at this time, so I take a peek around the corner and I see this person in all black tossing around garbage bags. At first I thought it was just the trash man, but then I see a foot underneath the bags.”
“You saw a foot?” Jonne repeats. “What does that mean?”
“…There was someone underneath the bags,” Novak tells him in almost a whisper. “But that’s not the worst part.”
“What’s the worst part then?”
“They started pouring gas onto the bags and lit a match.”
“W- what?”
“They lit a match,” he repeats. “And the whole thing went up in flames.”
The Finn’s jaw drops as Novak makes a gesture of the flames with his arms. The addict was smirking, but Jonne was horrified. He had witnessed someone burning a body, a fucking murder! How the hell could he be reacting so calmly to it? If it were him, Jonne would have shit himself.
“You saw a fucking murder!” Jonne exclaims. Mostly he just needed to say it out loud.
“I didn’t say it was a murder,” he shrugs.
“You saw someone burning a body!”
“Doesn’t mean that it was a murder though.” Jonne gives him a disbelieving look and Novak realizes how stupid his statement sounded. “…Alright, it probably was,” he mumbles.
“Did you get a good look at the person?”
“Not really,” he admits, looking away from Jonne. His pretty blue eyes were boring holes into him, making him uncomfortable. He knew what this look meant; disappointment.
“Come on, think about it,” he presses.
“I… I don’t know,” he shrugs. “All I saw was a black coat and black pants.” From the corner of his eye, he can see Jonne still staring at him. “Don’t look at me like that…. I called the cops about the fire.”
“Did you tell them what you saw?”
“No,” he answers quickly. “I called from the payphone down the street and didn’t leave my name.”
“Novak,” Jonne says his name tenderly. He takes hold of the other man’s hand and holds it tightly. The addict still won’t look at him. “Kulta, you have to do the right thing. You have to tell the police what you saw.”
“I didn’t see anything though,” he asserts. “I didn’t get a look at the guy’s face and all I saw was a foot underneath the trash…. Besides, I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to cops.”
His words make Jonne curious, but after a moment he realizes what they meant. Biting on his lower lip, he slowly turns Novak’s hand over. He keeps a tight hold of him with one hand while his fingers lightly touch his wrist. The fingers trail upwards in a ghostly touch that makes Novak shiver. The touch wasn’t meant to arouse though, it was searching. Novak hisses when his index finger traces over the fresh puncture wound, circling around the blackish skin.
“You’ve been using again.” The Finn’s voice is almost a whisper, but Novak can still hear the saddened tone. He’s let Jonne down again and he hates himself for it, but he just can’t help himself.
“…Yeah,” he nods. There was no point in denying it. He couldn’t lie to Jonne if he tried. “A- are you mad?”
“I… I’m upset,” Jonne sighs. “You made it four weeks though…. That’s better than last time.”
“You’re not going to leave now, are you?”
Novak’s eyes look towards the blonde, waiting for his answer. Jonne’s eyes are still glued to the track marks on his veins, his fingers lightly tracing over the skin. He’s got that faraway look in his eyes again. The addict remembers that he had done that the last time he had found the marks on his skin. He always wondered where Jonne’s mind went during these times, but he would never ask.
“No,” Jonne answers. “I’m not going to leave. You need me right now.”
“Thank you,” he whispers, taking the Finn into a warm hug. Once again, he knows that this is something that he doesn’t deserve from Jonne, but he’s thankful for it all the same.
“I still think that you need to talk to the cops though,” he murmurs.
Novak rolls his eyes and lets out a groan. That was a hell of a way to avoid the topic at hand.
“There’s nothing to tell,” he sighs. “They’ve already come around and found the body. They’ll find out who he is and who killed him. They don’t need me.”
“It’s the right thing to do Brandon, you know that.”
“Yeah…. I’ve never really been one to do the ‘right thing’ though.”
“No… I suppose not.”
Jonne lets go of his hand and pulls back to the other side of the sofa. For a moment, Novak doesn’t know whether he should laugh or cry. Finding out that he had slipped into his habits didn’t disappoint Jonne, but something like this did? He wasn’t trying to upset his Finn. Novak just knew how the police worked. He would tell them what little he knew, they would take one look at him and see all of the signs of a junkie, and the whole thing would be dismissed. What’s more, he would be risking his little hideout if he came forward. It was wintertime in West Chester, and a warm place to sleep was something that he wasn’t willing to give up. All in all, it just wasn’t worth the risk.
Still, to hear the disapproval in Jonne’s voice had hurt. The blonde was his only friend in the world, the only person who gave a damn. He didn’t want to lose him. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Novak scoots closer to Jonne. The Finn looks up just in time to see the body launching itself at him, taking him into another tight hug. Strong arms wrap tightly around his lithe frame and pulled him close against a bare chest. Novak’s chin rests on his shoulder and he can feel his warm breath against his ear…. For a moment, Jonne can’t help but close his eyes and think about how nice it is to be held like this. It had been a long time.
“Don’t hate me,” Novak whispers, his lips brushing against Jonne’s ear. “Don’t give up on me yet.”
The guilt washes over him suddenly and he can feel the tears springing to his eyes again. He can remember saying those exact words to his friends over these past few years and how it never seemed to help. Everyone gave up on him eventually…. But he wouldn’t do that to Novak. He’s vowed to be better than that, to never give up on someone who needed him. So he closes his eyes, forces back his tears and returns the embrace. He can hear Novak let out a contended sigh and he knows that he’s done the right thing. Friends never give up on each other…. Larry used to know that.
Detective Murphy was not happy. His shift had ended an hour ago, yet here he was, walking slowly through the hallways of the medical examiner’s office to check out some stiff that shouldn’t even be his. He had been sitting at his desk, pouring himself into his current case-load when his captain had approached him and told him to report to the medical examiner. Murphy hadn’t really wanted to. His mind and his body were exhausted from his constant working these past several weeks. There had been a string of ritualistic-like murders in the city over the course of several months. It was the kind of case that could make this young detective’s career, but it had been taking its toll on him. No two victims were the same, aside from being male, and every trail he followed lead to a dead end. Murphy has the nagging suspicion that his captain had just given him this task as some form of distraction. No matter though; he’ll do as he’s told and then get back to his case.
Pushing through the double doors, he’s lead into the cold morgue, where Doctor Warner is speaking softly into her tape recorder. The doctor smiles and nods to him, but she keeps speaking into the recorder. Detective Murphy’s eyes shift from her to the metal table, where a charred, twisted form is lying. The sight of it should be horrifying, but three years on the job and he’s already seen enough to make him numb to these kind of things.
“Cilian,” Warner greets, setting her tape recorder on the lab table. “I’m surprised they sent you to me.”
“You and me both,” the detective sighs. “So tell me, what exactly am I looking at?” He gestures to the blackened body.
“This,” she begins, clearing her throat, “was a person. The local coroner determined him to be male, somewhere in his early twenties.”
“Local?” He repeats. “What do you mean by that?”
“The victim died in West Chester, a township not too far from here,” she explains.
“What the hell are we doing with him then?”
“The township’s coroner didn’t have the resources that we do to handle something like this.”
“What’s there to handle?” He scoffs. “From the looks of it, he died in a fire.”
“At first glance, yes,” she nods, rolling her eyes slightly. “But there was no smoke in the lungs.”
This caught Murphy’s attention. His eyes peak up curiously and he sees a satisfied smirk on Warner’s lips. She had always thought him to be just a little too cocky.
“Got your attention yet?” She asks.
“I’m all ears,” he smiles to her.
“As I was saying, there was no smoke in the lungs, so the fire wasn’t what killed him.”
“The fire was just to get rid of the evidence then,” he nods, looking back over the body. “Any idea what killed him then?”
Her eyes look back down towards the man lying on the metal slab. She searches over the areas of charred skin until she finds the wound. Pressing her gloved finger to the wound, she gestures for Detective Murphy to look.
“These holes here, appear to be significantly deep stab wounds. Unfortunately for him, they broke through his jugular vein.”
“So he bled out then?”
“…You could say that.”
“What do you mean?” He asks, raising his eyebrow curiously.
“There was massive blood loss, but the crime scene report I received had said that there was very little blood at the scene. I suspected that his body was probably dumped at the scene, but witnesses reported hearing some kind of scuffle going on. He was killed where they found him… his blood is just gone though.”
Something inside Detective Murphy’s head clicked suddenly and he was beginning to understand why his captain had sent him here. He quickly asks for the case file and she gestures to the folder on the other table next to her recorder. Picking it up, his eyes quickly scan over the file. All that he really sees though are the initial coroner’s reports, photos of the crime scene, and different shots of the body as it was found. The mentioning of the blood loss had made him think of his ritual killer, but this couldn’t be the work of the same person. The other killings had been much more methodical. Still… it did seem similar. Perhaps the killer had been changing their methods?
“Something wrong Cilian?” She asks.
“No,” he shakes his head. Damn… His case had been turning cold and he’d been hoping for some new development. A new victim wouldn’t exactly have been the best break, but at the moment he was desperate for anything.
“There’s something else you should see,” she continues. Cilian puts down the file and looks back towards the body.
Doctor Warner’s hands reach for two metal bars that were on either sides of the man’s head. She takes them away and instantly the head falls to the left with a loud thud. Murphy jumps a little at the sound, but he moves forward to get a closer look. The sight is almost too sickening for him. The way that the head is lying on the table is far too unnatural.
“What the hell am I looking at?” He murmurs.
“His neck was snapped,” she explains. “Almost clean off.”
Indeed it was, he thinks. The body was lying flat on its back, but the head is lying limply to the side, the mouth touching the table.
“Could it have happened when the body was dumped?”
“Possibly,” she shrugs. “But it would have taken a lot of force to cause a break this severe.”
“Jesus. How bad is it?”
“If I were to sit him up, I would be able to turn the head almost completely around.”
“Damn…,” he mutters under his breath.
“Also, I found signs of deep muscle contusions on his cheeks. Now look at this,” she puts her finger onto the cheek and pulls back the black skin, revealing a deep slit. “There were puncture wounds in his cheek that began to clot.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that someone had gripped his face and dug their nails into his flesh.”
“…You mean it was a person that snapped his neck?”
“I’ve never met anyone with the strength to do something like this… but yes,” she nods. “Someone had grabbed hold of him and snapped his neck.”
“Jesus Christ,” he whispers. “What the hell happened to this guy?”
“If it makes you feel any better, he did try to fight back.”
“Really now?” He’s able to tear his eyes away from the disgusting, twisted neck in order to look back at her. She’s moving over to his right side and takes hold of his wrist. She lifts the hand up and takes a light hold of his index finger. Cilian squints his eyes and he sees that unlike the rest of the body, the finger is an actual flesh tone.
“I don’t know how,” she says, “but somehow, this finger managed to survive the fire. I scraped the fingernail and found skin and a hair follicle. I’ll run it through the database and hopefully we’ll find a match.”
“Were you able to get a print?”
“Thankfully yes,” she nods. “I’ve already sent that out, but we’re also searching dental records so hopefully we’ll have an I.D. on him soon…. I’d hate for him to be lying here without a name.”
“So… drained of blood, snapped neck, lit on fire, and no I.D. Damn, I’ve got my work cut out for me,” he sighs.
“You’re taking the case then?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.
“My captain implied that this one is pretty much mine,” he explains. “Besides, my ritual killer hasn’t struck in a few weeks. I can spare some time for a small town murder.”
“Good luck to you then,” she smiles. “I’ll call if I get any hits off the DNA or fingerprints.”
“Appreciate it,” he tells her.
Detective Murphy gives the doctor one last smile before taking his leave. This hadn’t been what he was expecting. When his captain sent him down here, he thought it nothing more than a nuisance, something keeping him from his real work, but there was something else now. He thinks about his ritual killer, and the methods of his work… but then his mind turns to an old similar case that had come up in his investigation. It was a quadruple homicide in Newark, New Jersey. The victims had their throats slashed, necks broken and had been burned to cover the evidence. He knew it was probably a long shot, but it was worth looking into. For all he knew, the monster that had been terrorizing the north-east for the past year.
The snow flakes fell gently that night. One of the tiny ice crystals landed on Bam’s eyelash, giving him a blurred view of the intricate hexagonal patterns before he wiped it away. The boy wasn’t concerned with the cold and snowflakes right now. His mind was concentrating on the yellow ball in his hand and the curious look in his friend’s eyes. Licking the corner of his lips, Bam raises the ball up flat on his palm and strikes it hard. The ball flies into the air only to be caught by the white rope, pulling it around the pole in a clockwise direction. Ville’s green eyes just follow the ball’s path with mild curiosity. Bam just sighs in frustration.
“You’re not supposed to let it go all the way around,” he tells her. He reaches out and catches the ball before it can make a third rotation around the pole.
“Why not?” She asks.
“Because that’s how you play. When I hit the ball, you hit it back and try to wrap it around the pole,” he explains.
Bam raises the ball once more and hits it more gently this time. When the ball comes close, Ville raises both hands and swats at it. She makes contact but almost loses her footing. The boy can’t help but smirk at the cuteness of her actions. She always seemed to carry herself with a certain smoothness and grace, it was good to see she could be clumsy as well. The ball comes back towards him and Bam punches it with his fist. It makes one lap around the pole before Ville strikes at it again. She’s able to hit it harder this time and soon, the two begin a good rhythm.
“What’s the point of this game?” She asks when she misses the ball again.
“To be the first to get it around the pole,” he answers.
“But why? What are you trying to accomplish?”
“I don’t know,” Bam shrugs. “Its just supposed to be for fun. Like the swings; there’s no point to it.”
This girl was starting to worry him. The fact that she couldn’t grasp the concept of fun and play was unnerving to him. He could understand if she’s never played tether ball before, but she made it sound like some sort of menial task.
“So what do you like to play?” He asks her, hitting the ball particularly hard this time. It wrapped around the pole twice before she caught it again.
“What do you mean?”
“Play,” he repeats. “Like, do you have a favorite video game?”
“I’ve never played one before.” She hits the ball back, making it wrap halfway around.
“Board games?” She shakes her head. “A doll?”
“I’ve never had one,” she admits with an uncaring shrug. Now that was very odd. There wasn’t one girl that Bam knew who didn’t have at least one Barbie or baby doll in their life.
“So what do you normally do for fun then?”
“I don’t know…. I like puzzles. I like to draw.”
“That’s cool,” Bam nods. He stops a moment to think about her hobby, and his eyes fall towards the black notebook at her feet, the one she always kept away from him.
“Is that what your notebook is for?” He asks. Green eyes shoot towards him instantly. “C- can I see it?”
The ball comes back towards Ville. Narrowing her eyes, she raises her fist and strikes the ball exceptionally hard. Bam yelps as he ducks out of the way of the speeding yellow sphere. It speeds around the pole, wrapping the tether around five times before it can go no more. Mouth agape, Bam looks back towards his friend, but her expression is stoic and uncaring.
“I guess I win,” she shrugs.
“I- I guess so,” he agrees with a nervous laugh.
“That was… fun,” she tells him, though it seemed as if she were forcing the words. “Do you want to play again?”
“We don’t have to. We could play on the swings again if you want?”
“It’s not too cold for you?”
Though Bam could feel a shiver coming on, he was handling the cold much better than he had earlier. Before coming out, he had changed into a thicker pair of socks, put on a pair of gloves and wrapped a scarf around his neck. He was sure that he looked a little silly wrapped head to toe, but avoiding a cold would be his reward. At the moment, he’s more worried about Ville. That large hoodie she’s wearing has slipped off of her shoulder, exposing her smooth, pale skin. The chill wind doesn’t seem to be affecting her though. He hasn’t seen her shiver.
“I’m fine… but aren’t you cold?”
“I don’t get cold, remember?”
“You’re weird,” he laughs, throwing his arm over her shoulder.
“I know,” she smiles, leaning into him.
The cold breeze brings a strong smell to Bam’s nostrils, making him cringe. Ville doesn’t seem to take notice, and after a moment, he realizes why; it was coming from her. With her hair so close to his nose, he’s overwhelmed by a rotting stench. The only thing he can compare it to is when Jess had cut his arm and it became infected. Rotting flesh. That mixed with the garbage smell of her hoodie is too much for Bam and he pulls away from her, covering his nose with his hand.
“Is something wrong?”
“You stink.”
The words leave Bam’s mouth before he can stop them. Immediately his eyes shoot up in horror and his cheeks flush red. He didn’t mean to offend her like that. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Ville’s feelings.
“I’m sorry!” He apologizes quickly. “I didn’t mean-”
“Its ok Bam,” Ville cuts him off. “You don’t have to apologize.” Bam watches as she raises her arm up to her nose, taking a whiff of her jacket. Her little upturned nose scrunches up and she takes her arm away.
“I suppose I do smell a little bit. Its been a while since I last bathed.”
“Your mom doesn’t make you everyday?” She shrugs her shoulder and shakes her head. “Damn…. When I was a kid, my mom used to have to wrestle me into the bathtub every night,” he laughs.
“You’re still a kid. Does she still do that?”
“Not really….” He tries to think about the last time Ape made him clean his room or checked his homework. He thinks about the dishes piled up in the sink. “She kind of stopped caring about those things.”
“Tarja doesn’t care about those things either. Something we have in common I suppose.”
“Yeah,” he nods. Neglect probably wasn’t the best thing to bond over, but still Bam can’t help the small smile from forming on his lips. He liked sharing things with her.
“Come on,” she says, taking his hand. “Lets go swing before you have to go home.”
“So you do like playing on the swings then?” Bam smirks. She had seemed so resistant to them the night before, so it made him happy to know he had changed her mind.
“Yes,” she nods. “Its fun.”
For some reason the words sound weird coming from her, as if she were forcing them. Maybe she was though. Maybe she was only doing this for him? Even if she was though, Bam was glad to play with her. He was glad that she wasn’t being as serious and aloof anymore and she was beginning to open up to him. If the swings were what it took to get her to act more like a kid, then he was happy to swing with her.
The two take their seats on the black swings and begin to kick their legs. They start out slow but soon they are pumping their legs hard, racing to see who can get to the highest point first. Ville is winning the race so far. Her long legs are pointed out high in the air and for a moment, Bam can’t help but think that she’ll fly over the top. He’s actually hoping for that; he’s always thought that would be cool to see. So he watches her as she goes higher and higher, but she never seems to make it over.
“Do you think you can go over the top?” Bam asks, trying to go higher.
“Why would I do that?”
“Just to see if you could,” he replies. “No one’s ever done it before. You could be the first.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “You could be famous then. A legend among kids everywhere. Ville, the girl who went over the top of the swings. You could be on the news and everything.” He knows that he’s over exaggerating and sounding cheesy, but its worth it to see her laugh and smile.
She doesn’t smile though. Instead her pretty face becomes a blank expression and she turns away. Bam keeps his eyes on her and watches as she makes it to the highest point. He’s sure that this time she’s going to go over. With her legs pointed out, she closes her eyes and falls back towards the ground. The force sends her up higher and higher until he’s sure that she’s about to do it…. Just as she is about to cross the bar though, her hands let go of the chains and her body flies forward. It all happens too fast for Bam to react and he’s left staring as she sails through the air. Something is wrong though. Last time she had shifted to land on her feet like a cat. This time though, she’s just falling to the earth with her head back and arms stretched out; a little falling angel. When she hits the ground, the realization of what she’s done finally hits Bam.
“Ville!” He screams her name.
Bam puts his feet out towards the ground and skids to a stop. With his heart racing, he runs quickly to where Ville had landed. She’s still lying there in the snow, her arms stretched out beside her and she isn’t moving. Bam kneels down by her side, but her eyes are closed.
“Ville! Oh my God!” Bam grabs hold of her shoulders and tries to shake her, but she won’t move. “Ville!”
There’s a stinging in Bam’s eyes and he knows that the tears are soon to come. Please be ok! He shakes her again, but she still won’t respond. “Wake up!”
Eyelids shoot open and sparkling emerald meets sapphire. “V- Ville?”
“Yes Bam?”
“You’re ok?” He doesn’t give the girl time to answer before he scoops up her small torso and brings her into a crushing hug. Not even the rotting smell can keep him embracing her tightly.
“I’m alright Bam,” her voice whispers in his ear. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You scared the shit out of me!” Bam scolds, though he doesn’t loosen his grip around her. “I thought you were hurt.”
“Don’t cry Bam,” she whispers soothingly, her fingers tracing up and down his spine. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying,” he protests, suddenly becoming very angry. He loosens his grip on her, but only enough so that he can look her in the eyes. Bam didn’t want to let go of her completely though. He doesn’t want to lose his only friend.
“Why the hell did you do that!? You could have been hurt!”
“Because I could,” she replies simply. “Its just like flying.”
Bam doesn’t know what to say to that. Those were her words from the night before, when she had landed so gracefully on her feet. She had the ability to do it again, to land safely, but she didn’t do it. Instead she chose to hit the ground with full force where she could have been hurt or worse. Bam’s eyes glance quickly at the hole in her palm, from where she had impaled herself with the sharpened stick.
“V-Ville… why do you hurt yourself?” He knows that he probably shouldn’t ask that question, it was far too personal. He wanted to know though. He wanted to know why his friend was so numb to pain that she seemed welcomed it.
Because I need it. I deserve it. She won’t speak these words though. She’s already frightened Bam enough.
“I don’t know,” she answers. She looks away from Bam, up towards the black sky where millions of tiny white flakes were falling gently to the ground.
“Don’t hurt yourself anymore Ville,” Bam commands, though it sounds more like pleading. “You’re my friend…. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I’m sorry Bam,” she apologizes softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Well, you did.”
Truth be told, a lot of things about Ville had been scaring him this evening. The way she spoke about hurting those who picked on Bam, the lack of normalcy in her home life, and of course the way she could hurt herself without so much as flinching. Bam was scared alright, but he was more scared for Ville than anything. What the hell was going on in this girl’s life that made her act this way? What could he do to save her?
“I won’t hurt myself Bam,” she promises. Just for him, she will make this promise… though she’s not sure if she’ll be able to keep it. Every time she closes her eyes she sees their faces. She sees their cold, dead eyes staring back at her, asking her why. It’ll be hard to keep her promise.
Ville’s eyes look upward and sees that Bam is still watching her. There is a look of concern in those blue eyes that disturbs Ville. She’s not used to people looking at her this way. Well, there is Tarja, but she has her own reasons. When she looks at Ville this way, she doesn’t actually see Ville; she sees the child she lost years ago and the chance she never had to be a mother. Bam is different though…. He may not see Ville for everything she is, but he’s seen a glimpse into the darker parts. He’s seen it, and he wants to be let in further to Ville’s life so he could help her. Its been a long time since Ville had let anyone in.
Raising up, Ville closes her eyes and places her lips softly against Bam’s. The boy’s heart skips a beat when he feels her soft lips against his own. The kiss is brief, but Bam couldn’t overcome his shock when she sat up and wrapped her arms around him…. His first kiss.
“You’re a good friend Bam.”
Shakily, Bam’s arms wrap around Ville’s torso once more, returning her embrace. The two sit there, holding each other tightly with the snowflakes falling around them. Though Bam is overwhelmed by confusion, happiness, and sadness, he can’t stop from glancing back towards the swings. The chain of Ville’s swing was wrapped around the top bar. Even with the cute girl in his arms, all Bam could think was that she had been so close. Ville, the girl who could have gone over the top, but chose not to. The girl who chose pain instead of fame. The girl who gave him his first kiss.
====================================================================================
comments are love