From Coals to Flame 4: Coals
Title: From Coals to Flame 4: Coals
Disclaimer: Ville is not mine :(
Summary: Evie tells Ville more about her past
A/N: these next parts are more centered on Evie, since she's home and Ville's not with her... sorry...
Five months after revealing that horrible night to Ville, Evie felt she knew him very well. She could tell when he wasn't in a good mood, even through text messaging. She knew about his love for Red Bull and coffee, and his avoidance of situations where he was left alone with "crazy fans". She knew what would bring a smile to his face, and also what would wipe away the smile and turn to a frown. She loved him best when he was comfortable and relaxed; he was brighter that way. She knew that the sparks she'd felt in Sydney had evolved into coals that burned brightly just for him, but she kept it tame so no one could see how much she loved him. She'd finally decided to tell him about her last boyfriend after one conversation they'd had while he was in Brazil:
"I've always felt that women are beautiful. Even broken down, shoved around, there is still... a sweetness about them that only women can carry. I think that's called 'estrogen'."
Evie laughed and said, "No, it's called 'testosterone' and all women are beautiful to you because you have so much of it."
"Astute observation, enkeli. But I still think it's the radiance that women have, not the chemicals that men have that make us see beauty.'
"I don't know, Ville. I've seen some pretty f*ed up women out there. And I'm not judgmental at all.'
"I've learned that about you. Along with the optimism and energy you have, you are very generous. Sometimes even when one doesn't deserve it."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, like the other night for example. In no way did I deserve a smile from you, but you gave a brilliant one anyway," Ville said, referring to their webcam chat when he was short tempered and exhausted.
"Oh," she said, dismissing him with her hand again, "you always deserve my smiles, Ville. There are worse people in the world, and more consistently undeserving than you were that one time."
Suddenly, her phone gave off an alert. Ville watched as Evie's face reddened, then paled to the extreme end of white. Worried, he said, "Enkeli? Honey, what's wrong?"
She looked up at him, fear fresh in her eyes and said, "Nothing... I... I have to go. I’m sorry." and shut of her camera before he could protest.
Her hands shook as she read the text message: Hi. I've missed you.
Seemingly friendly, but considering who it was from, her blood ran cold and she packed a bag and ran to Aysha's house.
Sighing, she prepared herself for the rehashing she was going to have to do, but in her mind, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Ville had become, to her, the one person she knew she could reveal things to and not have to worry about anything backfiring. He was her therapist, even though he didn't realize it. He loved hearing about her life, the good and the bad.
Ville had texted her first that day, wanting to actually talk to her on webcam because he was becoming wary and tired of the road; they'd been on tour now for almost a year, and they hadn't even gotten to the States yet. She agreed. But she decided she wasn't going to start that conversation the same way she did the last one. Her main concern was making sure he was ok.
And he was. He had an excited gleam in his eyes when his picture came up on the screen. Evie asked him what was causing the mischievous look, but he wouldn't tell her, saying that it would be saved till the end of the conversation. "Well, ok," Evie said shrugging, "End of conversation."
Ville said "No!" and reached for the screen like he was going to reach for Evie's arm, then they both laughed when he realized he couldn't do that. He sighed and said, "I just miss you."
Evie blushed and replied, "I miss you too." Ville picked up on her hesitation and tried to ask her what suddenly bothered her, when she sighed deeply and launched her largest horror tale of her life.
"So... you remember about a month ago, we were talking on cam and I basically hung up on you?" Ville nodded, so she continued, "And I wouldn't tell you what it was the next few times we talked?" Ville nodded again, his attention retained despite the wrestling behind him involving Mige and Gas.
"It was my ex boyfriend," she said, and saw Ville's face fall. Quickly, she said, "Oh, we're not getting back together or anything. No way, no how. He just... has a very bad effect on me that even after a year and a half I can't stop. He scares me," she said simply, twiddling with the zipper of the hoodie Ville'd sent her from France. "He was very sweet and kind at first, but about a month into the relationship, things started to fall apart. He quit his job working for the trucking company as a diesel mechanic, and stopped paying his bills, expecting me to work and cook and clean for him. At first, I did, without any problem. Then he started being disrespectful to me, and for a month, I took it. I thought he was going to be the one for me. He said he wanted to marry me. All my life, I'd felt like I was a 'filler', you know, filling the time for men while they were between actual girlfriends. He was the first man to want me for more than a night," she said, looking at Ville with guilt in her eyes. Again, just like last time, he was listening with rapt attention, but his eyes hadn't reached the same gray that they had been with her first revelation, so she continued, "So he made me feel worth something. Until the day he got drunk and angry when I wouldn't take a shower with him. He called me an ignorant bitch. Without another word, I started packing. As I reached for my keys, he grabbed them and told me I wasn't going anywhere, he'd given me the money for that truck and until he got it back, it was his. In all actuality, he’d only given me enough to get the windshield replaced and I'd already paid him back a hundred times over by paying his mortgage. So I pulled out my checkbook, wrote him a check, and he ripped it up. I was terrified at this point, so I picked up what I could carry and started walking down the street. I called my friend Cylest and asked her if I could stay at her place, for a while, and I'd explain when I got there. The next problem was getting me there; we lived in a suburb, and she lived in the city. I was already interrupting her time with her long distance boyfriend, so I didn't ask her to come get me; I called my friend Mikey instead. As I was telling Mikey how to get to me, Keith drove up beside me and begged me to get in the car, he followed me halfway down the street, saying 'Just get in the damn car and come home, this is embarrassing!' I still wouldn't say a word to him, so he finally drove away, just as Mikey was turning down the street and heading towards me. I got in the car with Mikey and fell apart. Poor Mikey," Evie said with a humorless giggle, "he didn't know what to do. So he just drove. My phone was constantly ringing; Keith just wouldn't give up. At first he was sweet, apologizing and saying he didn't mean it, please come home so we could work this out. Then he became angry, saying that when I came for my stuff, it would be out in the yard. I finally answered him, and he had the nerve to ask me why I left. I was stunned. 'You called me an ignorant bitch!' 'I'm sorry about that, but you know, sometimes the truth hurts.' and I hung up on him. Didn't answer his calls for two days, until I was sure I could get my things and be done with him. I had no money and no self worth. So when I showed up to get the rest of my belongings, naturally, he sweet talked me into staying. I told him that he couldn't talk to me like he had been and he was going to have to start taking care of his own mortgage and bills so I could take care of mine. He agreed and for about a month, we were fine. Until my 22nd birthday weekend.
"We'd gone to my dad's for the weekend, he had a lakefront house that was comfortable and out of the city, and we could have a small vacation. Dad had taken Keith as a sort of apprentice for his work as a custom builder, and Keith was getting extra experience by helping my dad build my dad's own house on the farm he'd bought. They were going to work on the house that weekend, and I was staying at the lake house with some other family that had come in from out of town. My favorite aunt told me that Saturday morning that she didn't really like Keith; there was something about him that she didn't trust. I waved it off, but in the back of my mind, I told her she was right. He drank heavily, used drugs on a daily basis, and was slipping back into some of his old habits. Dad and Keith got back to the lake house that afternoon around 2 o'clock and we decided to take the boats and the jet skis out on the water. Of course, Keith commandeered the driver's position on ours, so I got on the back of it. He’d been drinking already, and he was pretty drunk, but I didn’t argue with him. We left the dock, and the water traffic was heavy. He was going too fast and not paying attention to the boats around us, and he was making me nervous. I told him to slow down, a lot. Right after I finished telling him for the fifth time, he turned quickly to avoid a boat and slung me off the side. I couldn’t let go, I was too scared. I screamed for him to stop, and when he did, the Jet Ski flipped over so that the seat was in the water. It took the two of us and three people on the boat to flip it back over, and my dad was justifiably angry. We got back to the house and Keith started to pout. He said he was going to just go home because everybody was mad at him. My temper flared, and I said in a pissed off way, ‘Fine. Go. I don’t care. All I wanted for my birthday was to spend time with my boyfriend and my family, but go ahead, ruin it.’ He backhanded me across my face. I was so shocked, I didn’t feel the pain. I then proceeded to deck him in the mouth. He lost two teeth.
“That wasn’t the last time he hit me, though. The second time, when I fought back, we were at home, and he beat me so bad he broke my ribs,” she could feel the tightness in her throat start and the tears well in her eyes, but when she looked at Ville, he looked dangerous, like… he was going to explode. His eyes were not gray anymore; they were black with anger, his sweet lips pulled into a thin white line, and his fists were curled tightly around his chair, knuckles white. Evie took a breath and said “I couldn’t leave. He had my money, and I had no friends because he made me feel guilty for talking to them or going out with them. So I fell off their radars; all except for Aysha. She took me to the hospital when I met her for lunch the day after he laid my arm open with his pocket knife. That was the last straw for her. She’d cleaned my cuts and helped hide my bruises for almost a year. She got me away from him; put me in her home and protected me. If not for her, I’d probably be dead.”
“You heard from him a month ago?” Ville asked, the danger not leaving his eyes.
“He sent me a text message. I don’t know how he got my number, but I didn’t respond hoping he’d think I didn’t get it. That’s the last of it, though,” she answered, looking down to her hands in her lap.
“Why do you look guilty?” Ville asked suddenly, noticing how she was hanging her head.
Evie stared back at Ville in surprise. “Shouldn’t I feel guilty? I knocked his teeth out. And then there’s the fact that you had something you were excited to tell me, and now I think I’ve made you angry.”
“Kulta, you can’t possibly feel guilty for fighting for your life. And what you’ve just told me makes me want to do what I had planned even more,” Ville said, calming down some, and allowing a small smile. Evie’s heart fluttered.
“The next leg of the tour is in the States. We have two more shows, one in Rio De Janerio, and one in Cancun. Then we get a break for a week before the first show in the States, in Norfolk,” he said slyly, “and I want to come stay with you for that week.”
<3 me?
Sparks
Warmth
Steady Heat
Disclaimer: Ville is not mine :(
Summary: Evie tells Ville more about her past
A/N: these next parts are more centered on Evie, since she's home and Ville's not with her... sorry...
Five months after revealing that horrible night to Ville, Evie felt she knew him very well. She could tell when he wasn't in a good mood, even through text messaging. She knew about his love for Red Bull and coffee, and his avoidance of situations where he was left alone with "crazy fans". She knew what would bring a smile to his face, and also what would wipe away the smile and turn to a frown. She loved him best when he was comfortable and relaxed; he was brighter that way. She knew that the sparks she'd felt in Sydney had evolved into coals that burned brightly just for him, but she kept it tame so no one could see how much she loved him. She'd finally decided to tell him about her last boyfriend after one conversation they'd had while he was in Brazil:
"I've always felt that women are beautiful. Even broken down, shoved around, there is still... a sweetness about them that only women can carry. I think that's called 'estrogen'."
Evie laughed and said, "No, it's called 'testosterone' and all women are beautiful to you because you have so much of it."
"Astute observation, enkeli. But I still think it's the radiance that women have, not the chemicals that men have that make us see beauty.'
"I don't know, Ville. I've seen some pretty f*ed up women out there. And I'm not judgmental at all.'
"I've learned that about you. Along with the optimism and energy you have, you are very generous. Sometimes even when one doesn't deserve it."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, like the other night for example. In no way did I deserve a smile from you, but you gave a brilliant one anyway," Ville said, referring to their webcam chat when he was short tempered and exhausted.
"Oh," she said, dismissing him with her hand again, "you always deserve my smiles, Ville. There are worse people in the world, and more consistently undeserving than you were that one time."
Suddenly, her phone gave off an alert. Ville watched as Evie's face reddened, then paled to the extreme end of white. Worried, he said, "Enkeli? Honey, what's wrong?"
She looked up at him, fear fresh in her eyes and said, "Nothing... I... I have to go. I’m sorry." and shut of her camera before he could protest.
Her hands shook as she read the text message: Hi. I've missed you.
Seemingly friendly, but considering who it was from, her blood ran cold and she packed a bag and ran to Aysha's house.
Sighing, she prepared herself for the rehashing she was going to have to do, but in her mind, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Ville had become, to her, the one person she knew she could reveal things to and not have to worry about anything backfiring. He was her therapist, even though he didn't realize it. He loved hearing about her life, the good and the bad.
Ville had texted her first that day, wanting to actually talk to her on webcam because he was becoming wary and tired of the road; they'd been on tour now for almost a year, and they hadn't even gotten to the States yet. She agreed. But she decided she wasn't going to start that conversation the same way she did the last one. Her main concern was making sure he was ok.
And he was. He had an excited gleam in his eyes when his picture came up on the screen. Evie asked him what was causing the mischievous look, but he wouldn't tell her, saying that it would be saved till the end of the conversation. "Well, ok," Evie said shrugging, "End of conversation."
Ville said "No!" and reached for the screen like he was going to reach for Evie's arm, then they both laughed when he realized he couldn't do that. He sighed and said, "I just miss you."
Evie blushed and replied, "I miss you too." Ville picked up on her hesitation and tried to ask her what suddenly bothered her, when she sighed deeply and launched her largest horror tale of her life.
"So... you remember about a month ago, we were talking on cam and I basically hung up on you?" Ville nodded, so she continued, "And I wouldn't tell you what it was the next few times we talked?" Ville nodded again, his attention retained despite the wrestling behind him involving Mige and Gas.
"It was my ex boyfriend," she said, and saw Ville's face fall. Quickly, she said, "Oh, we're not getting back together or anything. No way, no how. He just... has a very bad effect on me that even after a year and a half I can't stop. He scares me," she said simply, twiddling with the zipper of the hoodie Ville'd sent her from France. "He was very sweet and kind at first, but about a month into the relationship, things started to fall apart. He quit his job working for the trucking company as a diesel mechanic, and stopped paying his bills, expecting me to work and cook and clean for him. At first, I did, without any problem. Then he started being disrespectful to me, and for a month, I took it. I thought he was going to be the one for me. He said he wanted to marry me. All my life, I'd felt like I was a 'filler', you know, filling the time for men while they were between actual girlfriends. He was the first man to want me for more than a night," she said, looking at Ville with guilt in her eyes. Again, just like last time, he was listening with rapt attention, but his eyes hadn't reached the same gray that they had been with her first revelation, so she continued, "So he made me feel worth something. Until the day he got drunk and angry when I wouldn't take a shower with him. He called me an ignorant bitch. Without another word, I started packing. As I reached for my keys, he grabbed them and told me I wasn't going anywhere, he'd given me the money for that truck and until he got it back, it was his. In all actuality, he’d only given me enough to get the windshield replaced and I'd already paid him back a hundred times over by paying his mortgage. So I pulled out my checkbook, wrote him a check, and he ripped it up. I was terrified at this point, so I picked up what I could carry and started walking down the street. I called my friend Cylest and asked her if I could stay at her place, for a while, and I'd explain when I got there. The next problem was getting me there; we lived in a suburb, and she lived in the city. I was already interrupting her time with her long distance boyfriend, so I didn't ask her to come get me; I called my friend Mikey instead. As I was telling Mikey how to get to me, Keith drove up beside me and begged me to get in the car, he followed me halfway down the street, saying 'Just get in the damn car and come home, this is embarrassing!' I still wouldn't say a word to him, so he finally drove away, just as Mikey was turning down the street and heading towards me. I got in the car with Mikey and fell apart. Poor Mikey," Evie said with a humorless giggle, "he didn't know what to do. So he just drove. My phone was constantly ringing; Keith just wouldn't give up. At first he was sweet, apologizing and saying he didn't mean it, please come home so we could work this out. Then he became angry, saying that when I came for my stuff, it would be out in the yard. I finally answered him, and he had the nerve to ask me why I left. I was stunned. 'You called me an ignorant bitch!' 'I'm sorry about that, but you know, sometimes the truth hurts.' and I hung up on him. Didn't answer his calls for two days, until I was sure I could get my things and be done with him. I had no money and no self worth. So when I showed up to get the rest of my belongings, naturally, he sweet talked me into staying. I told him that he couldn't talk to me like he had been and he was going to have to start taking care of his own mortgage and bills so I could take care of mine. He agreed and for about a month, we were fine. Until my 22nd birthday weekend.
"We'd gone to my dad's for the weekend, he had a lakefront house that was comfortable and out of the city, and we could have a small vacation. Dad had taken Keith as a sort of apprentice for his work as a custom builder, and Keith was getting extra experience by helping my dad build my dad's own house on the farm he'd bought. They were going to work on the house that weekend, and I was staying at the lake house with some other family that had come in from out of town. My favorite aunt told me that Saturday morning that she didn't really like Keith; there was something about him that she didn't trust. I waved it off, but in the back of my mind, I told her she was right. He drank heavily, used drugs on a daily basis, and was slipping back into some of his old habits. Dad and Keith got back to the lake house that afternoon around 2 o'clock and we decided to take the boats and the jet skis out on the water. Of course, Keith commandeered the driver's position on ours, so I got on the back of it. He’d been drinking already, and he was pretty drunk, but I didn’t argue with him. We left the dock, and the water traffic was heavy. He was going too fast and not paying attention to the boats around us, and he was making me nervous. I told him to slow down, a lot. Right after I finished telling him for the fifth time, he turned quickly to avoid a boat and slung me off the side. I couldn’t let go, I was too scared. I screamed for him to stop, and when he did, the Jet Ski flipped over so that the seat was in the water. It took the two of us and three people on the boat to flip it back over, and my dad was justifiably angry. We got back to the house and Keith started to pout. He said he was going to just go home because everybody was mad at him. My temper flared, and I said in a pissed off way, ‘Fine. Go. I don’t care. All I wanted for my birthday was to spend time with my boyfriend and my family, but go ahead, ruin it.’ He backhanded me across my face. I was so shocked, I didn’t feel the pain. I then proceeded to deck him in the mouth. He lost two teeth.
“That wasn’t the last time he hit me, though. The second time, when I fought back, we were at home, and he beat me so bad he broke my ribs,” she could feel the tightness in her throat start and the tears well in her eyes, but when she looked at Ville, he looked dangerous, like… he was going to explode. His eyes were not gray anymore; they were black with anger, his sweet lips pulled into a thin white line, and his fists were curled tightly around his chair, knuckles white. Evie took a breath and said “I couldn’t leave. He had my money, and I had no friends because he made me feel guilty for talking to them or going out with them. So I fell off their radars; all except for Aysha. She took me to the hospital when I met her for lunch the day after he laid my arm open with his pocket knife. That was the last straw for her. She’d cleaned my cuts and helped hide my bruises for almost a year. She got me away from him; put me in her home and protected me. If not for her, I’d probably be dead.”
“You heard from him a month ago?” Ville asked, the danger not leaving his eyes.
“He sent me a text message. I don’t know how he got my number, but I didn’t respond hoping he’d think I didn’t get it. That’s the last of it, though,” she answered, looking down to her hands in her lap.
“Why do you look guilty?” Ville asked suddenly, noticing how she was hanging her head.
Evie stared back at Ville in surprise. “Shouldn’t I feel guilty? I knocked his teeth out. And then there’s the fact that you had something you were excited to tell me, and now I think I’ve made you angry.”
“Kulta, you can’t possibly feel guilty for fighting for your life. And what you’ve just told me makes me want to do what I had planned even more,” Ville said, calming down some, and allowing a small smile. Evie’s heart fluttered.
“The next leg of the tour is in the States. We have two more shows, one in Rio De Janerio, and one in Cancun. Then we get a break for a week before the first show in the States, in Norfolk,” he said slyly, “and I want to come stay with you for that week.”
<3 me?
Sparks
Warmth
Steady Heat