Sorrows Undone (Vam oneshot)
Title: Sorrows Undone
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ville shows up randomly at Bam's place and is in a terrible mood. Finding out why is a bitch.
Disclaimer: Ville has made a lovely home in my bathtub. I don't know or own anyone/anything in this story.
Authors Notes: Not as happy with this as I was with Five, Ten, Fifteen, Twenty. But I needed to get this written, because it was blocking my brain. Dedicated to the mental image of Ville shaking an empty cereal box and looking like a lost puppy, and to the Backstreet Boys without whom, for some reason, I have extreme difficulty writing.
I knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into my house. Besides the fact that he'd shown up completely unannounced (he always called a few days in advance, because, "If I'm anything, I'm polite."), looked like he hadn't slept in weeks and hadn't eaten in months, he just seemed broken in every sense of the word. I'm not the kind of person who picks up on emotions well, but the sadness that was radiating off of him was as obvious as the color of the sky. And it's not like I'd never seen him sad before, because hello, look who we're talking about. But this was different. This was deeper. This was something I wasn't sure I could make disappear with a joke or idiotic stunt. For once in my life, I didn't know how to make Ville Valo happy again.
"If you don't eat something, I'm calling Ape," I threatened, pushing a plate of stir-fry in front of him. "She doesn't know you're here yet, but if she finds out, she's going to come over here and fuss over you like nobody's business. You're the perfect son she never had."
"Does she think that?" Ville asked, picking at the vegetables. "That I'm perfect?"
"Compared to her own children, uh, yeah," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. "Please, man. Eat something. I don't feel like going to the emergency room right now, especially when it's not my fault."
"But the ER is your second home, surely you miss it?" Ville said dully, nibbling on a water chestnut.
"You depress me so fucking bad, you know that?" I groaned, tossing the dishtowel I'd been holding on the table. "I'm going to sit out on the deck. Wouldn't happen to have a lighter on you, would you?"
"For what?" he asked warily, raising an eyebrow at me.
"So I can light myself a few cigarettes?" I said with a sly smile. Ville rolled his eyes and threw the his lighter at me with a shrug.
"I want it back, and I refuse to take responsibility for any damage it may cause," he said simply.
"You don't have to worry about a thing," I assured him, turning around and making my way out back. Once I got out on the deck, I threw myself down in a chair and lit a cigarette, deciding that maybe Ville would feed himself if I wasn't staring at him the whole time. Or he'd just throw the food away. In any case, I knew that hovering over Ville was a good way to make the situation worse, not better. He always managed to right himself, in his own way and on his own time. But still, this time seemed different. There was an odd, unfamiliar tension in the air, one that wasn't unpleasant, but wasn't exactly welcome, either. I'd noticed it when Ville wouldn't even tell me why he'd come to see me. "Just because," he'd said. I knew it was a lie, and so did he. Shortly after that, he'd dodged further interrogation by slinking off to the guest bedroom. It wouldn't really have bothered me, but...
He forgot to give me my good night kiss.
"Can I join you?" Ville said, poking his head outside.
"Did you eat your dinner like a good little boy?" I asked cheekily. Ville snorted.
"Everything but the carrots," he said, stepping out onto the deck and pulling out a chair for himself. "You actually cook pretty well, considering that Ape has always cooked for you."
"Yeah, well," I grinned, blowing smoke at him, "When she and Phil moved out, I knew it was either, learn to cook, starve, or die from eating takeout. I like living, so I started watching the Food Network." Ville chuckled softly and shook his head, looking up at the sunset painted sky. He seemed to drift off for a moment, lost in his thoughts. He began drumming his fingers on the table in front of him, and that's when I noticed--
"Why aren't you smoking?" I demanded. He laughed quietly again.
"What a kind friend you are, wanting me to smoke," he teased. "I don't know. I just haven't felt like it lately. Maybe I've grown out of it or something."
"That's not possible," I said, a horrified look on my face. "You're sick, dude. You need medical attention. Ville Valo does not grow out of cigarettes."
"Apparently he does," Ville yawned, stretching his long arms above his head. "You have to admit, it's better for me."
"Yes, but--"
"Hey, I think I'll go to bed early," he interrupted, standing up and taking his lighter from where I'd placed it on the table. "Thanks for feeding me. I feel a little better." He turned to go inside, but I quickly grabbed his wrist.
"Where's my good night kiss?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. "And where was last night's?" Ville sighed and gave me a weary look.
"Never satisfied, are you Bammie?" he whispered, leaning in and kissing me twice on the cheek. "Happy now?"
"Yeah," I said softly, comforted immensely by the use of the nickname. "Night, Willa."
"Good night, Bam," Ville yawned, ruffling my hair before going back inside, closing the sliding glass door gently behind him.
I chose to ignore the sound of him crying that night. I had to have been imagining it, dreaming it, something. But I couldn't ignore the fact that when I woke up at about three in the morning, he was curled up next to me in my bed. That hadn't been a dream. But like one, he was gone when morning came.
"Is there a reason you keep an empty Cheerios box in your pantry, Bam?" Ville demanded, shaking the box to demonstrate how empty it was.
"To trick people like you," I replied, pouring myself some coffee. "Um, I have a question."
"Fire away."
"What was wrong last night?"
"Nothing was wrong," Ville said, looking at me like I had three heads. "Why do you ask?"
"I thought I heard you crying," I said sheepishly. "And you came into my room and slept."
"What vivid dreams you have, Bam," Ville said with a grin. "I was fine last night, and I slept in my own bed."
"Mmkay," I said, sitting down at the table. I knew he was lying about where he'd slept, at least. The pillows and blankets still smelled like him, even though he'd abandoned them early in the morning.
"So... you have no Cheerios?" Ville pouted, shaking the box again dejectedly. I snorted.
"No, no Cheerios."
"You have no soul."
I watched him carefully all day, taking note of everything that was odd about him. Number one was the obvious lack of cigarettes. Number two was how quiet he was. Number three was the way he kept side-stepping my questions about why he was even in West Chester.
"Did you kill someone? Are you on the run?"
"NO, BAM!" Ville shouted. He was laughing though, a good sign. "I am considering it now though!"
"Oh really?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?"
"Maybe," Ville said mysteriously, looking sideways at me. Suddenly, he was on top of me, having leapt from his chair to the couch in three seconds flat. He jokingly grabbed my throat and shook me from side to side, giggling the entire time. I flailed dramatically, making the appropriate choking noises, before going completely limp and sticking my tongue out. Ville snickered and let go of my neck, sitting down on my hips.
"Does this mean I get the house?" he asked, poking me in the ribs. I opened my eyes and shrugged.
"I don't know, I haven't made my will yet."
"You, of all people, should have your will done already," Ville said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You are a hazard, after all."
"Do you have yours done?" I asked, drawing shapes on his thigh with my fingers.
"Yeah, but I have to change it every six months," Ville said, watching my invisible drawing. "You know, writing out the people who piss me off and such."
"Am I on there?" I asked teasingly. Ville's face turned serious.
"Yeah," he said with a nod. "You actually... get most of my stuff."
"Why?" I said, propping myself up on my elbows. "What about your family?"
"That bunch of pack rats?" Ville scoffed. "What do they need with my junk? Nah... I left them money. They'll be fine. That is, if I drop dead anytime soon, which I don't exactly plan on doing."
"Ville, answer my original question," I whined, slapping his leg. "What are you doing here?" Ville groaned and rubbed his face vigorously before looking at me defeatedly.
"Can't a man just come see his best friend?"
"Not looking like as much of a wreck as you did when you walked in that door," I said firmly. "Ville, please stop lying to me. Why are you here?"
"Because I missed you, Bam," he said quietly, petting my hair gently. "I needed to hear your voice and see you again. Okay?"
"Okay," I murmered, deciding not to push the issue further for the moment. This was the most he'd said about it the whole time he'd been with me. "Thanks for actually answering me for once."
"You're very welcome, darling."
He was getting better, but I knew he was still hiding something. And whatever it was, it was eating away at him at every moment. He'd just sit for long periods in complete silence, not doing anything, just staring off into space. I told him that if he thought to much more, his head was going to explode. He told me to mind my own beeswax, which was funny to hear him say. I teased him for hours, and told him I was going to call him "Beeswax" from now on. He just smiled and said, "That's actually kind of adorable."
It wasn't much, but it was something.
That night, it was my turn to go to bed early. I had only been under the covers for ten minutes when there was a knock at my door, followed by the creak of it opening enough for Ville to peer in.
"Are you asleep?" he whispered. I decided to pretend to be, just to see what would happen. When I didn't answer, Ville opened the door the rest of the way and came in, shutting the door behind him. My back was to him, but I heard him move across the room and crawl gingerly onto the bed. He sat up near the headboard, and I felt his thin fingers stroke my arm after a few quiet moments. I tried to suppress a shiver, knowing that if I didn't, he'd realize I was awake. It took several minutes, but I eventually relaxed into his touch, which had moved upwards to my hair. He sighed quietly, gently twisting a curl around his finger, and once again, I could feel the sadness emanating from him. I suddenly wanted to "wake up" and roll over to look at him, to ask him if he was okay. Something I'd been asking far too much. But just as I was about to move, Ville leaned in close to my ear.
"Bam, I know you're upset with me for not talking to you," he whispered, his hot breath tickling my face, smelling like peppermint candies. "I know you want me to tell you what's really wrong, but I just can't. We're too close as friends for me to jeopardize it over something as silly as a few silly thoughts I tend to have..." He sighed again, resting his chin lightly on my shoulder. "I love you, Bammie. I love you so much, and I'm really sorry." He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, then got up and went out into the hall, the door shutting with a click behind him. I sat up quickly as his footsteps faded away, my heart in my throat, still not sure that what had happened had not been a dream. I got out of bed and raced out of my room and down the stairs, before slowing when I saw the door to the deck open. I crept over and peeked outside, and smiled slightly at what I saw.
Ville was sitting in the pouring rain underneath the oversized table umbrella, a cigarette between his fingers, exhaling smoke into the drenched air.
"I love you, Willa," I said without thinking, my eyes widening as the words left my lips. He turned around and looked at me, eyebrows raised.
"You... what?"
"I-- I love you," I repeated, feeling like a complete douche. "Don't make me say it again, hey? You know how I feel about the L word."
"I thought you said it was kind of hot?" Ville smirked.
"The other L word, loser," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Loser?"
"VILLE!" He snickered at me, shaking his head and motioning for me to come sit with him. I sprinted across the deck to avoid getting soaked and threw myself down in the chair next to his. I pulled my legs up onto the chair to sit indian-style, staring at the table, feeling very awkward and embarrassed.
"You were awake, weren't you?" he asked softly, sucking more smoke into his lungs. I nodded silently, wishing he would look somewhere other than my face. His eyes were practically burning into my skin.
"Did you expect anything less, though?" I sighed, glancing sideways at him. "I figured it was the only way I'd be able to get decent information out of you."
"And do you think you did?" Ville yawned, looking at me curiously.
"I guess, a little," I shrugged. "You love me more than you let on, and you're afraid it will fuck up our friendship."
"That's about right," Ville said with a brief nod.
"That's so unoriginal," I scoffed. "Ville, there is no ruining our friendship. We're not ten, you know."
"I sometimes wonder about you..."
"Would you shut up?" I laughed, slapping his arm gently. He giggled stupidly for a moment, before simply smiling contentedly at me.
"So we're... all right?" he asked hopefully. I rolled my eyes.
"Ville Valo, do you know how hard it would be to make us not all right?" I demanded, pulling his stupid purple hat off of his head and jamming it onto mine. "You'd have to like... kill me or something. Then we'd totally not be okay. I'd haunt you and shit."
"You haunt me already," Ville said dramatically.
"Oh, how stereotypically Valo of you," I teased, my hand finding his without my permission. I looked from our entwined fingers to his face, which was still sporting that almost stupid serene expression. I was about to tell him that if anyone else were to see him like that, they'd think he was kind of special, but he stopped me by giving me a quick kiss on the lips. He pulled back blushing, something I was able to see, even in the dark. It was kind of adorable.
"This is the best I've felt in months," he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine. "Thanks, Bammie."
"Shouldn't some cheesy, romantic music be playing right now?"
"Oooooh, I'm in the mood for some Backstreet Boys..."
"Because that didn't sound filthy at all."
"Bam."
"You want it thaaaaaat waaaaay!"