It's me...I'm a freak...
Sometimes Bam finds himself staring at an empty screen and he wonders if that’s what they’ve become - a blackened square on the tiniest form of communication either of them have. Is it really so bad that Ville won’t even message him?
Nine letters - How are you?
Eight letters - I love you.
Seven - Miss you.
Six - No more.
Five - Hurts.
Four - NEED.
Three - Now.
Every single one of those captures what he’s feeling about the long absence of Valo in his life. He’ll lie in bed and ache, unable to think of anything besides those kind of one word splinters of pain in him, sometimes, and that’s when he looks at the screen again.
Then it aches worse - what has he done that’s fucked things up so bad Ville won’t message him?
color:black">Yeah, I'm afraidcolor:black">
Whataya want from me
Whataya want from me
Sometimes Bam finds himself screaming at Ville for things he never planned on bitching at him about. There he is, blue eyes bursting fire, yelling at the top of his lungs about how Ville’s nasty ass grain bread made his cats sick or something similarly ri-goddamn-diculous, and there Ville is, green eyes patient, just taking it.
It’s then he realizes how much Ville puts up with just to endure life with him, and right about halfway through that realization, he stops yelling, helpless against just his lover’s presence, and Ville pulls him into his arms and whispers that he knows, he knows, there’s no need for Bam to be so defensive over everything…
Bam wonders in those arms sometimes whether Ville might always get the reason behind his raised voice and his juvenile arguments…
…and then he realizes that of course he does, because if he didn’t, he’d have been gone a long time ago.
color:black">There might have been a timecolor:black">
When I would give myself away
(Ooh) Once upon a time
I didn't give a damn
“No, you fucking liar! Stop spinning your goddamn pretty words and tell me what that was! Who the hell was she?!”
Bam’s standing in the bedroom and he’s throwing things - breaking some of Ville’s priceless antiques just because they’re all he can get his hands on, while Ville watches in shock and anger - because she touched him. She touched Ville and it was his ring, the one he gave to Ville, touching those delicate fingers that brushed over his hands, a touch far more intimate than a simple brush.
She kissed his cheek too - left a lipstick print Bam can see even now, after Ville’s scrubbed at it with the focus of a man possessed - and Bam saw red. He nearly tore her off of his lover and threw her over the barricade, but he didn’t get the chance.
So he takes it out on the one man who wanted it less than he did, because if Bam doesn’t make somebody hurt as much as he is right now, he might burn to ashes from the inside out from the pure, hot pain.
“Fuck you…fuck you. How dare you let her…let her…”
He’s screaming, but he can’t hear it. If he could hear himself, he’d hate himself, and Ville could never be with someone who loathes their own heart that much.
He goes on screaming to pretend he knows what he’s talking about, until he’s too weak to do anything but fall into bed…too weak to fight off arms so determined to soothe him.
Far too weak to push away callused fingertips raking tears off of his cheeks.
color:black">Just don't give upcolor:black">
I'm workin' it out
Please don't give in
I won't let you down
Bam walks out of his kitchen on a normal night to find a far from normal circumstance.
In the foyer, leaning heavily against the door like he’s sucking its strength into himself, Ville stands too close to leaving, his feet planted next to two large suitcases, holding as much as Ville could ever bear to take with him.
A piece of Bam chips off and dies when it hits the floor and for a long moment, he doesn’t know what to say. Staring into those green eyes, so dull and resigned, Bam is lost for words that would defend himself, devoid of any characteristic he possesses to lure Ville back if Ville’s already decided.
How the fuck is he supposed to convince Ville to stay when he himself doesn’t believe Ville should?
color:black">It messed me up, need a second to breathe
Just keep coming around
Hey, whataya want from me
Whataya want from me
Eventually, he walks up, and whispers the only thing he can think of that Ville might like to hear.
“Sorry, babe…I love you but I just…”
He can’t explain it, so he tries to show Ville, pressing his nose so hard to his neck he could break it and clinging to Ville’s shirt with both hands fisting the material. He’s holding on as tight as he can, doing his damnedest to prove that he’s not trying to make Ville go.
After long minutes that peel Bam’s heart apart in strips, finally, long, lanky arms come around him, and perfect eyes so full of sorrow purge themselves on his shoulder as Ville shudders out his catch phrase for the relationship.
“I know, Bam…I know.”
color:black">Yeah, it's plain to seecolor:black">
That baby you're beautiful
And there's nothing wrong with you
There are those times Bam has a second to think about how much he’s not worth Ville. How he’s gone through his life destroying things and there Ville is, captured in porcelain and jade, draped in rags that look like raiments when they play off of such a body, just awaiting Bam’s next mistake. Just calmly anticipating his destruction.
Creator that he is, he probably never sees Bam’s affinity isn’t even close to creation - he probably never even sees it coming when Bam ruins himself, ruins them both, sends them into spirals that go nowhere but hell.
And Bam will lie there, in a bed dressed in Ville’s symbol, and sob for all that he’ll never be - everything Ville must want that he can’t give him, and everything he wants to avoid that Bam forces into his existence.
When Ville’s there, he hushes him and hums until Bam is dragged kicking and screaming into sleep.
When he’s not, Bam convinces himself he would be…if Bam weren’t who he is.color:black">
color:black">It's me - I'm a freakcolor:black">
But thanks for lovin' me
Cause you're doing it perfectly
“Why…why do you keep coming back, Vil? I mean, there has to be somebody else, somebody better…somebody who won’t make you fight so hard.”
“Because I want to fight, Bam…I don’t want this person who keeps me company and reminds me love’s beautiful every now and then when they can bother to pull themselves out of their own life. I want…I want somebody who I would dive into the quicksand for, somebody who can hold onto me so tight that walking away would rip my soul in two. Somebody who can tell me how sick and incredible love is just by looking at them.”
And Bam is stunned, he can’t say anything for long minutes. It’s only when his lover realizes he’s started sniffling in place of breathing and there’s a damp patch forming on both of their shirts beneath Bam’s chin that he lets himself answer.
“…Sweetheart?”
“I know, I just…” Sniffing, wiping his nose with his shoulder, he mumbles the words that follow him around everywhere, the words that have been tattooed a thousand times across his insides since the May day he met the man holding him.
“I just fucking thank God…that you love me.”
He looks up just in time to have a fat tear plop onto his nose from those always patient green eyes and sighs as Ville squeezes him with a shaky whisper,
“I…I don’t get it, Bam. Why?”
Trembling, he sits up and tries to breathe as his throat constricts and his stomach rolls itself into a tiny knot. He’s Bam Margera, he doesn’t lose it like this…
…but this is Ville, and Ville, he…
“Because you do it so fucking perfectly.”
…He smiles and Bam shatters. He tugs Bam closer and Bam melts.
He whispers,
“I couldn’t not.”
…and Bam can’t breathe for the joy.
color:black">Yeah, there might have been a time
When I would let you slip away
I wouldn't even try but I think
You could save my life
*****
Just don't give up
I'm workin' it out
Please don't give in
I won't let you down
It messed me up, need a second to breathe
Just keep coming around
Hey, whataya want from me
Whataya want from me
Just don't give up on me
I won't let you down
No, I won't let you down
So
Just don't give up
I'm workin' it out
Please don't give in
I won't let you down
It messed me up, need a second to breathe
Just keep coming around
Hey, whataya want from me
Just don't give up
I'm workin' it out
Please don't give in
I won't let you down
It messed me up, need a second to breathe
Just keep coming around
Hey, whataya want from me
(Whataya want from me)
Whataya want from me
*****
So, am I totally off here, or did I manage to get it right? I mean, you have no idea how iffy I am about this one...
But hey, pushing past insecurities, right?
All my love to all those who read (and/or comment)!
Nine letters - How are you?
Eight letters - I love you.
Seven - Miss you.
Six - No more.
Five - Hurts.
Four - NEED.
Three - Now.
Every single one of those captures what he’s feeling about the long absence of Valo in his life. He’ll lie in bed and ache, unable to think of anything besides those kind of one word splinters of pain in him, sometimes, and that’s when he looks at the screen again.
Then it aches worse - what has he done that’s fucked things up so bad Ville won’t message him?
color:black">Yeah, I'm afraidcolor:black">
Whataya want from me
Whataya want from me
Sometimes Bam finds himself screaming at Ville for things he never planned on bitching at him about. There he is, blue eyes bursting fire, yelling at the top of his lungs about how Ville’s nasty ass grain bread made his cats sick or something similarly ri-goddamn-diculous, and there Ville is, green eyes patient, just taking it.
It’s then he realizes how much Ville puts up with just to endure life with him, and right about halfway through that realization, he stops yelling, helpless against just his lover’s presence, and Ville pulls him into his arms and whispers that he knows, he knows, there’s no need for Bam to be so defensive over everything…
Bam wonders in those arms sometimes whether Ville might always get the reason behind his raised voice and his juvenile arguments…
…and then he realizes that of course he does, because if he didn’t, he’d have been gone a long time ago.
color:black">There might have been a timecolor:black">
When I would give myself away
(Ooh) Once upon a time
I didn't give a damn
“No, you fucking liar! Stop spinning your goddamn pretty words and tell me what that was! Who the hell was she?!”
Bam’s standing in the bedroom and he’s throwing things - breaking some of Ville’s priceless antiques just because they’re all he can get his hands on, while Ville watches in shock and anger - because she touched him. She touched Ville and it was his ring, the one he gave to Ville, touching those delicate fingers that brushed over his hands, a touch far more intimate than a simple brush.
She kissed his cheek too - left a lipstick print Bam can see even now, after Ville’s scrubbed at it with the focus of a man possessed - and Bam saw red. He nearly tore her off of his lover and threw her over the barricade, but he didn’t get the chance.
So he takes it out on the one man who wanted it less than he did, because if Bam doesn’t make somebody hurt as much as he is right now, he might burn to ashes from the inside out from the pure, hot pain.
“Fuck you…fuck you. How dare you let her…let her…”
He’s screaming, but he can’t hear it. If he could hear himself, he’d hate himself, and Ville could never be with someone who loathes their own heart that much.
He goes on screaming to pretend he knows what he’s talking about, until he’s too weak to do anything but fall into bed…too weak to fight off arms so determined to soothe him.
Far too weak to push away callused fingertips raking tears off of his cheeks.
color:black">Just don't give upcolor:black">
I'm workin' it out
Please don't give in
I won't let you down
Bam walks out of his kitchen on a normal night to find a far from normal circumstance.
In the foyer, leaning heavily against the door like he’s sucking its strength into himself, Ville stands too close to leaving, his feet planted next to two large suitcases, holding as much as Ville could ever bear to take with him.
A piece of Bam chips off and dies when it hits the floor and for a long moment, he doesn’t know what to say. Staring into those green eyes, so dull and resigned, Bam is lost for words that would defend himself, devoid of any characteristic he possesses to lure Ville back if Ville’s already decided.
How the fuck is he supposed to convince Ville to stay when he himself doesn’t believe Ville should?
color:black">It messed me up, need a second to breathe
Just keep coming around
Hey, whataya want from me
Whataya want from me
Eventually, he walks up, and whispers the only thing he can think of that Ville might like to hear.
“Sorry, babe…I love you but I just…”
He can’t explain it, so he tries to show Ville, pressing his nose so hard to his neck he could break it and clinging to Ville’s shirt with both hands fisting the material. He’s holding on as tight as he can, doing his damnedest to prove that he’s not trying to make Ville go.
After long minutes that peel Bam’s heart apart in strips, finally, long, lanky arms come around him, and perfect eyes so full of sorrow purge themselves on his shoulder as Ville shudders out his catch phrase for the relationship.
“I know, Bam…I know.”
color:black">Yeah, it's plain to seecolor:black">
That baby you're beautiful
And there's nothing wrong with you
There are those times Bam has a second to think about how much he’s not worth Ville. How he’s gone through his life destroying things and there Ville is, captured in porcelain and jade, draped in rags that look like raiments when they play off of such a body, just awaiting Bam’s next mistake. Just calmly anticipating his destruction.
Creator that he is, he probably never sees Bam’s affinity isn’t even close to creation - he probably never even sees it coming when Bam ruins himself, ruins them both, sends them into spirals that go nowhere but hell.
And Bam will lie there, in a bed dressed in Ville’s symbol, and sob for all that he’ll never be - everything Ville must want that he can’t give him, and everything he wants to avoid that Bam forces into his existence.
When Ville’s there, he hushes him and hums until Bam is dragged kicking and screaming into sleep.
When he’s not, Bam convinces himself he would be…if Bam weren’t who he is.color:black">
color:black">It's me - I'm a freakcolor:black">
But thanks for lovin' me
Cause you're doing it perfectly
“Why…why do you keep coming back, Vil? I mean, there has to be somebody else, somebody better…somebody who won’t make you fight so hard.”
“Because I want to fight, Bam…I don’t want this person who keeps me company and reminds me love’s beautiful every now and then when they can bother to pull themselves out of their own life. I want…I want somebody who I would dive into the quicksand for, somebody who can hold onto me so tight that walking away would rip my soul in two. Somebody who can tell me how sick and incredible love is just by looking at them.”
And Bam is stunned, he can’t say anything for long minutes. It’s only when his lover realizes he’s started sniffling in place of breathing and there’s a damp patch forming on both of their shirts beneath Bam’s chin that he lets himself answer.
“…Sweetheart?”
“I know, I just…” Sniffing, wiping his nose with his shoulder, he mumbles the words that follow him around everywhere, the words that have been tattooed a thousand times across his insides since the May day he met the man holding him.
“I just fucking thank God…that you love me.”
He looks up just in time to have a fat tear plop onto his nose from those always patient green eyes and sighs as Ville squeezes him with a shaky whisper,
“I…I don’t get it, Bam. Why?”
Trembling, he sits up and tries to breathe as his throat constricts and his stomach rolls itself into a tiny knot. He’s Bam Margera, he doesn’t lose it like this…
…but this is Ville, and Ville, he…
“Because you do it so fucking perfectly.”
…He smiles and Bam shatters. He tugs Bam closer and Bam melts.
He whispers,
“I couldn’t not.”
…and Bam can’t breathe for the joy.
color:black">Yeah, there might have been a time
When I would let you slip away
I wouldn't even try but I think
You could save my life
*****
Just don't give up
I'm workin' it out
Please don't give in
I won't let you down
It messed me up, need a second to breathe
Just keep coming around
Hey, whataya want from me
Whataya want from me
Just don't give up on me
I won't let you down
No, I won't let you down
So
Just don't give up
I'm workin' it out
Please don't give in
I won't let you down
It messed me up, need a second to breathe
Just keep coming around
Hey, whataya want from me
Just don't give up
I'm workin' it out
Please don't give in
I won't let you down
It messed me up, need a second to breathe
Just keep coming around
Hey, whataya want from me
(Whataya want from me)
Whataya want from me
*****
So, am I totally off here, or did I manage to get it right? I mean, you have no idea how iffy I am about this one...
But hey, pushing past insecurities, right?
All my love to all those who read (and/or comment)!