Heaven's Ablaze - Chapter 4
Title:: Heaven's Ablaze
Genre:: AU Fanfic
Rating::R
Summary:: His heaven is ablaze in my eyes.
Links
Prologue
Chapter 1 - Accident
Chapter 2 - Pot Luck
Chapter 3 - Warmth
Chapter Four - Joseph on Wheels
The idea of Christmas has never really sat well with me. Why does the whole of the Western world get so worked up about the birth of some kid who probably didn’t even exist? It’s beyond me, as most aspects of religion are. When Bam called me up and told me to meet them at the church on Christmas Eve instead of at their house, I seriously considered not going at all. Churches made me angry. It made me angry to see the masses of people blindly believing everything some old guy in a pulpit said to them. And then, once the anger subsided, I felt guilty for daring to enter their holy space. I felt dirty. Disgusting. Black. Tainted Here were these people who, when compared to me, were wholly pure and innocent and good… I felt like an intruder among them. I had been in churches before; had sat through whole sermons, wishing that I would feel something, anything… but nothing ever came. More often than not I ended up in the Rectory on my knees in front of the Priest. And I sure as hell wasn’t praying.
I don’t trust Priests. Not after Vegas.
Covered the carcass of time with flowers
To send the scent of blame to the grave
Set the darkest thoughts on fire
And watched the ashes climb to Heaven's gates
But I swallowed all of this. Forgot about it, like I was so good at doing. Pushed it away, swallowed my pride and my fears, wrapped myself in my long black coat, and walked out of the apartment into the snowy air. I had my Christmas presents for them in a bag slung over my back. I chuckled to myself; I must have looked like the Devil’s answer to Santa Clause. The one thing that I hadn’t changed from my years in Vegas was my passion for eyeliner and I was wearing it that day, thick lines around my eyes. I liked the way it made them look. Big emerald almonds. The black brought out the sparkle, almost made me look like I was close to being in tears at all times.
In retrospect, most of the time I actually was.
The church was nothing fancy. Nothing like the European equivalent. No bell towers, no winding staircases, no dark corners; no mystery. A simple square based building, a single, round stained glass window at the back of the Sanctuary, which had a high ceiling. Warm. Cozy. Honest.
I was late. I’d gotten lost; 10 years in the small town and I still didn’t know my way around. I was cursing myself as I pushed open the doors to the empty Foyer. Hung up my coat and left the bag of presents underneath it and slowly, carefully, quietly pushed open the door to the Sanctuary and stood at the back where I hoped that no-one would notice me, and then took a look around.
The priest was telling the Christmas sermon while behind him it was being acted out. Children covered in cotton balls crawled around on their hands and knees as teenagers acted out the more important characters in the story. I watched interestedly for a few seconds before looking around. The décor was pleasant - red candles burned in wreaths of holy and there were snowflakes everywhere.
I was surprised when I noticed that the Joseph on stage was grinning at me. A second look was enough for me to recognize him as Bam, only dressed up in a robe with a cloth draped over his head.
I don’t remember what went through my mind at that moment. I’m not even sure it was a very important moment at all. It was just that at that moment in time I realized that he was what I should have been like when I was his age. It was the realization that somewhere something in my life had fucked up. Didn’t I deserve to be that happy? Didn’t I deserve to be that innocent? Why me?
I dream of the winter in my heart turning to spring
It hit me hard. I wanted my childhood back. I was well aware of the fact that I wasn’t a mature adult by any means; I knew that my mental age had been stinted by experience and normally it didn’t matter. But at that moment I would have given my right leg to go back, start over, try everything again. We don’t get second chances at life. But I let myself wish for it, for just one second, before shaking myself out of it.
I had, once again, half a mind to leave. To leave him and his family - I spotted their distinctive heads in the pews - and their smiles and their hospitality and their warmth behind. I had half a mind to pack up everything and move on. Find another town. Get as far away as I could. They’d done something to me I didn’t like and I wanted it to stop. I didn’t like thinking about things as much as I’d been thinking about them since I’d met them. I didn’t like feeling things anymore.
I didn’t listen to the hymns. I didn’t listen to the sermon. I didn’t listen to the catechism. I didn’t listen to the priest wishing us all a Merry Christmas. I was lost in my own thoughts, my own memories; my own pointless, futile regrets. Bam, still in his robes, was the one to wake me up.
“You made it,” he said, grinning. I nodded, forcing a smile.
“Nice um… robes.” He rolled his eyes and looked at the cloth in his hands that had been on his head.
“Well. I had no choice. They basically forced me into it.” I nodded; the sight of him in those robes was actually becoming comical now. He was obviously not very comfortable.
“Look. I’m going to… get out of this and into some decent clothes and then I have to walk with you home cuz there’s no space in the van for all of us.” I frowned at him. All of us? The van was very, very big. I’d seen it in their driveway. I had been under the impression that this Christmas thing was a family affair so how could there not be enough space?
“Oh. Yeah. But … ‘family’ includes like… all my friends and Jess’s friends and their families and then my parent’s friends and …” He was leading us to one of the classrooms on the side of the sanctuary, which I assumed they were using as a dressing room for this pageant thing.
“Right. I thought it was just going to be the four of you,” I said quietly. Somehow I didn’t quite like the sound of such a big crowd of people.
“Really? Oh. Sorry. Yeah no, this is tradition. Everyone brings their pillow and blanket too and we all camp out in my living room and all the other rooms in my house and… Oh. Don’t worry we have spare ones for you.” I was looking at him in horror. I knew that I was supposed to be spending the night but other people too?
“Bam… I …”
“Oh come on. It’s just like an extension of my family. Don’t worry.” Worry was far from it. I was petrified.
“Bam, I don’t do strangers.”
I'm so afraid of life
“But they’re not strangers. They’re friends. Look just wait here I’ll be like two minutes.” His logic made no sense to me and once again the urge to run far, far away was almost irresistible. But I’d promised and the long-forgotten tug of guilt on my heartstrings told me that if I ran away from this Christmas thing I’d never forgive myself. Bam, true to his word, was out in two minutes, bundled up against the cold. I stopped in the foyer to shrug my coat on and sling the bag back over my shoulder before the two of us pushed open the big wooden doors and started the walk home.
“Why don’t you like lots of people? I would have thought you’re the kind of guy that is into all that party scene stuff.” He was the first one to break the silence a few minutes into the walk. I shrugged and thought about the question before I answered.
“I…” It was hard. I couldn’t tell him why I hated people. Couldn’t. He’d be disgusted. “I never have. I’m a quiet person, Bam.”
“Oh. Why?” I laughed at his persistence.
“It happens to you when you’re alone for your whole life, kid. Trust me.” He shrugged and accepted this without further questioning. I was grateful.
“So, um…” I fished around for a topic of conversation. What do you talk about with someone 13 years younger than you? “What was the deal with the robes?” He threw his head back and laughed. It echoed and rang off of the trees and the snow in the still, quiet air.
“The Joseph that was going to be in that thing kind of broke his leg doing something I dared him to do. So I had to play it instead. Don’t really mind. I just think it’s hilarious.” I chuckle and roll my eyes at him.
“What’d you make him do?”
“Drop in to my half-pipe in my yard. Only, it was covered in ice. He’s a stupid idiot for doing it. Can’t even skate.” He rolled his eyes and kept on laughing; I just smiled.
“Mom says that she doesn’t remember seeing you here before about… 10 years ago,” he said after another few minutes of silence. I blinked and then turned to look at him.
“And?”
“Well I mean… that’s apparently a big thing in a town like this. Means you’re an outsider. And your accent is different.” I nodded.
“I’m from Finland,” I said shortly. That was all he was getting. I steeled myself up and grit my teeth in the face of any further questions.
“Where’s that? I mean… I know it’s up north but… where?” I blinked at him. I would never get over the general lack of knowledge of the outside world that seemed rampant in America. I knew all the capitals of all 50 American states when I was in 6th grade. We even had tests on them.
“It’s up by Sweden and Russia. It’s where Santa Clause is from.” I wink at him. “It’s cold and dark and there’s a lot of snow and not much to do. That’s it, basically.”
“Oh. Cool. Do they speak Finlandish?”
“Finnish,” I corrected him, rolling my eyes.
“Well, sorry, how’m I supposed to know. It’s not like they teach us this in school!”
“Yes, I know, that’s the point.” He thought about this and then seemed to concede.
“Oh. Yeah. Okay I get it now. So what’s Finnish sound like?”
“Umm… I… well look tell me something to say and I’ll say it.” My Finnish was rusty; I hadn’t spoken it to anyone in years. I still thought to myself in Finnish most of the time but I hadn’t used it properly since I gained enough competence in English to actually use it instead of one or two words and then futile babbling in Finnish, trying to get my point across. It was rather like a complicated form of charades until I managed to get a grasp of the language.
“Um… say… I lost my luggage.” I blinked at him.
“Why?”
“In case I ever go to Finland and lose my luggage. Duh.” He stuck his tongue out at me and I rolled my eyes right back at him while I tried to remember the words.
“Matkatavarani ovat kadoksissa.” I nodded and smiled at the look of awe on his face.
“Whoaaa… say it again!” I frowned at him and asked why. “Because… that was so cool. Go on, say it again.” I said it again… and again and again and again. Every time I said it his face lit up like a little kid who’s been given candy. It was interesting to watch. It was interesting how it made me feel to cause that spark of light in his face.
Rip out the wings of a butterfly
We got to his house and he was still trying to master the syllables of the three words that had simply rolled, though a little crudely, off my tongue. He was still saying it under his breath as he fumbled with the key in the lock of the door - the house was crusted in even more glittering white snow, and I could smell cinnamon and apple and various other delicious scents wafting through the windows. My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten properly since the dinner I’d had at their house the week before.
Bam must have heard it, because he turned around before opening the door.
“Hungry?” he asked, grinning cheekily. I nodded.
“Haven’t eaten for a few days.” He shook his head.
“You’re crazy. Come on. There’s tons of food inside. Mom’s been cooking for weeks.” The sound of that was almost as inviting as the house itself. He opened the door and the warm air enveloped me and I shivered in the temperature difference.
“Come on in, Ville. They’re all waiting to meet you. And make fun of me for hitting you.” He winked at me and closed the door behind us. My stomach was a little bit queasy now; I could hear the laughter and the multitudes of voices from inside and my first instinct was, as always, to run. But Bam put his hands squarely on my back and pushed me. I yelped in surprise and whirled around. He was grinning at me innocently.
“Go on,” he said, nodding to the living room. I rolled my eyes.
“Yes, yes, Joseph whatever you say.” With that, I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the living room. Shouts of welcome assaulted my ears and the only thing that kept me walking forwards was Bam pushing me from behind. Then the door swung shut behind us and there was no going back anymore.
I'm killing loneliness
Genre:: AU Fanfic
Rating::R
Summary:: His heaven is ablaze in my eyes.
Links
Prologue
Chapter 1 - Accident
Chapter 2 - Pot Luck
Chapter 3 - Warmth
Chapter Four - Joseph on Wheels
The idea of Christmas has never really sat well with me. Why does the whole of the Western world get so worked up about the birth of some kid who probably didn’t even exist? It’s beyond me, as most aspects of religion are. When Bam called me up and told me to meet them at the church on Christmas Eve instead of at their house, I seriously considered not going at all. Churches made me angry. It made me angry to see the masses of people blindly believing everything some old guy in a pulpit said to them. And then, once the anger subsided, I felt guilty for daring to enter their holy space. I felt dirty. Disgusting. Black. Tainted Here were these people who, when compared to me, were wholly pure and innocent and good… I felt like an intruder among them. I had been in churches before; had sat through whole sermons, wishing that I would feel something, anything… but nothing ever came. More often than not I ended up in the Rectory on my knees in front of the Priest. And I sure as hell wasn’t praying.
I don’t trust Priests. Not after Vegas.
Covered the carcass of time with flowers
To send the scent of blame to the grave
Set the darkest thoughts on fire
And watched the ashes climb to Heaven's gates
But I swallowed all of this. Forgot about it, like I was so good at doing. Pushed it away, swallowed my pride and my fears, wrapped myself in my long black coat, and walked out of the apartment into the snowy air. I had my Christmas presents for them in a bag slung over my back. I chuckled to myself; I must have looked like the Devil’s answer to Santa Clause. The one thing that I hadn’t changed from my years in Vegas was my passion for eyeliner and I was wearing it that day, thick lines around my eyes. I liked the way it made them look. Big emerald almonds. The black brought out the sparkle, almost made me look like I was close to being in tears at all times.
In retrospect, most of the time I actually was.
The church was nothing fancy. Nothing like the European equivalent. No bell towers, no winding staircases, no dark corners; no mystery. A simple square based building, a single, round stained glass window at the back of the Sanctuary, which had a high ceiling. Warm. Cozy. Honest.
I was late. I’d gotten lost; 10 years in the small town and I still didn’t know my way around. I was cursing myself as I pushed open the doors to the empty Foyer. Hung up my coat and left the bag of presents underneath it and slowly, carefully, quietly pushed open the door to the Sanctuary and stood at the back where I hoped that no-one would notice me, and then took a look around.
The priest was telling the Christmas sermon while behind him it was being acted out. Children covered in cotton balls crawled around on their hands and knees as teenagers acted out the more important characters in the story. I watched interestedly for a few seconds before looking around. The décor was pleasant - red candles burned in wreaths of holy and there were snowflakes everywhere.
I was surprised when I noticed that the Joseph on stage was grinning at me. A second look was enough for me to recognize him as Bam, only dressed up in a robe with a cloth draped over his head.
I don’t remember what went through my mind at that moment. I’m not even sure it was a very important moment at all. It was just that at that moment in time I realized that he was what I should have been like when I was his age. It was the realization that somewhere something in my life had fucked up. Didn’t I deserve to be that happy? Didn’t I deserve to be that innocent? Why me?
I dream of the winter in my heart turning to spring
It hit me hard. I wanted my childhood back. I was well aware of the fact that I wasn’t a mature adult by any means; I knew that my mental age had been stinted by experience and normally it didn’t matter. But at that moment I would have given my right leg to go back, start over, try everything again. We don’t get second chances at life. But I let myself wish for it, for just one second, before shaking myself out of it.
I had, once again, half a mind to leave. To leave him and his family - I spotted their distinctive heads in the pews - and their smiles and their hospitality and their warmth behind. I had half a mind to pack up everything and move on. Find another town. Get as far away as I could. They’d done something to me I didn’t like and I wanted it to stop. I didn’t like thinking about things as much as I’d been thinking about them since I’d met them. I didn’t like feeling things anymore.
I didn’t listen to the hymns. I didn’t listen to the sermon. I didn’t listen to the catechism. I didn’t listen to the priest wishing us all a Merry Christmas. I was lost in my own thoughts, my own memories; my own pointless, futile regrets. Bam, still in his robes, was the one to wake me up.
“You made it,” he said, grinning. I nodded, forcing a smile.
“Nice um… robes.” He rolled his eyes and looked at the cloth in his hands that had been on his head.
“Well. I had no choice. They basically forced me into it.” I nodded; the sight of him in those robes was actually becoming comical now. He was obviously not very comfortable.
“Look. I’m going to… get out of this and into some decent clothes and then I have to walk with you home cuz there’s no space in the van for all of us.” I frowned at him. All of us? The van was very, very big. I’d seen it in their driveway. I had been under the impression that this Christmas thing was a family affair so how could there not be enough space?
“Oh. Yeah. But … ‘family’ includes like… all my friends and Jess’s friends and their families and then my parent’s friends and …” He was leading us to one of the classrooms on the side of the sanctuary, which I assumed they were using as a dressing room for this pageant thing.
“Right. I thought it was just going to be the four of you,” I said quietly. Somehow I didn’t quite like the sound of such a big crowd of people.
“Really? Oh. Sorry. Yeah no, this is tradition. Everyone brings their pillow and blanket too and we all camp out in my living room and all the other rooms in my house and… Oh. Don’t worry we have spare ones for you.” I was looking at him in horror. I knew that I was supposed to be spending the night but other people too?
“Bam… I …”
“Oh come on. It’s just like an extension of my family. Don’t worry.” Worry was far from it. I was petrified.
“Bam, I don’t do strangers.”
I'm so afraid of life
“But they’re not strangers. They’re friends. Look just wait here I’ll be like two minutes.” His logic made no sense to me and once again the urge to run far, far away was almost irresistible. But I’d promised and the long-forgotten tug of guilt on my heartstrings told me that if I ran away from this Christmas thing I’d never forgive myself. Bam, true to his word, was out in two minutes, bundled up against the cold. I stopped in the foyer to shrug my coat on and sling the bag back over my shoulder before the two of us pushed open the big wooden doors and started the walk home.
“Why don’t you like lots of people? I would have thought you’re the kind of guy that is into all that party scene stuff.” He was the first one to break the silence a few minutes into the walk. I shrugged and thought about the question before I answered.
“I…” It was hard. I couldn’t tell him why I hated people. Couldn’t. He’d be disgusted. “I never have. I’m a quiet person, Bam.”
“Oh. Why?” I laughed at his persistence.
“It happens to you when you’re alone for your whole life, kid. Trust me.” He shrugged and accepted this without further questioning. I was grateful.
“So, um…” I fished around for a topic of conversation. What do you talk about with someone 13 years younger than you? “What was the deal with the robes?” He threw his head back and laughed. It echoed and rang off of the trees and the snow in the still, quiet air.
“The Joseph that was going to be in that thing kind of broke his leg doing something I dared him to do. So I had to play it instead. Don’t really mind. I just think it’s hilarious.” I chuckle and roll my eyes at him.
“What’d you make him do?”
“Drop in to my half-pipe in my yard. Only, it was covered in ice. He’s a stupid idiot for doing it. Can’t even skate.” He rolled his eyes and kept on laughing; I just smiled.
“Mom says that she doesn’t remember seeing you here before about… 10 years ago,” he said after another few minutes of silence. I blinked and then turned to look at him.
“And?”
“Well I mean… that’s apparently a big thing in a town like this. Means you’re an outsider. And your accent is different.” I nodded.
“I’m from Finland,” I said shortly. That was all he was getting. I steeled myself up and grit my teeth in the face of any further questions.
“Where’s that? I mean… I know it’s up north but… where?” I blinked at him. I would never get over the general lack of knowledge of the outside world that seemed rampant in America. I knew all the capitals of all 50 American states when I was in 6th grade. We even had tests on them.
“It’s up by Sweden and Russia. It’s where Santa Clause is from.” I wink at him. “It’s cold and dark and there’s a lot of snow and not much to do. That’s it, basically.”
“Oh. Cool. Do they speak Finlandish?”
“Finnish,” I corrected him, rolling my eyes.
“Well, sorry, how’m I supposed to know. It’s not like they teach us this in school!”
“Yes, I know, that’s the point.” He thought about this and then seemed to concede.
“Oh. Yeah. Okay I get it now. So what’s Finnish sound like?”
“Umm… I… well look tell me something to say and I’ll say it.” My Finnish was rusty; I hadn’t spoken it to anyone in years. I still thought to myself in Finnish most of the time but I hadn’t used it properly since I gained enough competence in English to actually use it instead of one or two words and then futile babbling in Finnish, trying to get my point across. It was rather like a complicated form of charades until I managed to get a grasp of the language.
“Um… say… I lost my luggage.” I blinked at him.
“Why?”
“In case I ever go to Finland and lose my luggage. Duh.” He stuck his tongue out at me and I rolled my eyes right back at him while I tried to remember the words.
“Matkatavarani ovat kadoksissa.” I nodded and smiled at the look of awe on his face.
“Whoaaa… say it again!” I frowned at him and asked why. “Because… that was so cool. Go on, say it again.” I said it again… and again and again and again. Every time I said it his face lit up like a little kid who’s been given candy. It was interesting to watch. It was interesting how it made me feel to cause that spark of light in his face.
Rip out the wings of a butterfly
We got to his house and he was still trying to master the syllables of the three words that had simply rolled, though a little crudely, off my tongue. He was still saying it under his breath as he fumbled with the key in the lock of the door - the house was crusted in even more glittering white snow, and I could smell cinnamon and apple and various other delicious scents wafting through the windows. My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten properly since the dinner I’d had at their house the week before.
Bam must have heard it, because he turned around before opening the door.
“Hungry?” he asked, grinning cheekily. I nodded.
“Haven’t eaten for a few days.” He shook his head.
“You’re crazy. Come on. There’s tons of food inside. Mom’s been cooking for weeks.” The sound of that was almost as inviting as the house itself. He opened the door and the warm air enveloped me and I shivered in the temperature difference.
“Come on in, Ville. They’re all waiting to meet you. And make fun of me for hitting you.” He winked at me and closed the door behind us. My stomach was a little bit queasy now; I could hear the laughter and the multitudes of voices from inside and my first instinct was, as always, to run. But Bam put his hands squarely on my back and pushed me. I yelped in surprise and whirled around. He was grinning at me innocently.
“Go on,” he said, nodding to the living room. I rolled my eyes.
“Yes, yes, Joseph whatever you say.” With that, I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the living room. Shouts of welcome assaulted my ears and the only thing that kept me walking forwards was Bam pushing me from behind. Then the door swung shut behind us and there was no going back anymore.
I'm killing loneliness