Et voila! Chapitre Un. I hope you love it! :)
Title: For the Thousandth Time
Chapter: One.
Author: slasher48 / bad_bad_books
Rating: NC-17. Definite sex. And swearing.
Pairing: Vam. Bam and Missy. Ville and Jonna. Realism, damn it. :P
POV: Ville.
Disclaimer: There is no fucking way I could know if this is going down. It's only clever and imaginative speculation -- an educated hypothesis. And the future without clairvoyance.
Summary: If you see him, remember he could (still) be mine, with a sip of wine and a twist of time, except that I told him I didn't love him over a cup of coffee. (If you recognize the references, listen to the songs. If you don't...listen to them anyway. They'll help you understand and follow this craziness.)
AN: Sweet darling receiver, I wish I could have done exactly what you asked, because I saw it in my head and I know you would have loved it. I have had trouble writing anything but this lately, however, and maybe even a little with this too. If it's total chaos, if it's completely wrong, if you hate it, let me know and I will try again until I get it right. But, with a due date, this is what I came up with. I hope it hits the spot even a little, 'cause you deserve it. ♥
Special thanks to my beta insane_pyro_grl for assuring me that this was not complete idiocy when I need it most and talking me down from the ledge of "I'll delete this and start over" I was on.
“I still miss him, y’know. Sometimes I smoke all day and just like, remember. But don’t uh. Don’t tell him that.”
I’m walking on my way to the bathroom where Mige asked me to meet him when I hear it, around the corner of the church we’re in. The husky voice is so familiar it’s ingrained in me, and the words - they kill me. Deep into my heart they carve their way, until they’re all I hear, again and again in my head. Torturing me the way lyrics have a tendency to do: perhaps I’ll at least get a song out of this pain, later.
Mige answers, this low murmur of reassurance I’m very familiar with, but my mind’s elsewhere, my eyes narrowed as I think on this, on what he said. Whether Mige meant for this to happen - wouldn’t be the first time he pushed us together - or just got lucky enough to be Bam’s confidant, I’m jealous all the way to the gut that my best friend gets to hear this, while I have to skulk around just to catch a hint of the way Bam really feels about me. Of course, I have nobody to blame for that. No one but myself.
Still, it feels nice to be angry at something other than the wretched face staring out of the mirror, begging me each morning to realize my mistake.
“How are things going, though, really?”
“…I can’t actually tell you that, dude. Sometimes I’m fucking dead - like somebody shot me in the face and I’m just looking at everything, not really feeling nothin’ - and then there are times I don’t think about it, even. Not often, no way, but sometimes.”
Sometimes I wonder if I’m really the poet of the two of us. Bam’s got a blunt honesty that I’ll never really achieve, not with all my flowery words and vague answers to the most important questions, that is more romantic in its own right sometimes.
I peek around the corner where I’m hiding and blanch immediately at the look on my ex-lover’s face. That kind of look used to stop me getting out of bed to make the bus for our first stop on a tour; it’s this longing written everywhere, jabbing me at the core and pulling the same feeling from me. I regret telling Mige to tell Bam I’m fine now: the idea of kicking him while he’s so down appealed to me five years ago, when he got married to spite me breaking it off, but not now. Not when he’s this gone.
“Hey uh…I gotta get going. Tell Linde I was here and I liked the ceremony, really. It was pretty cool and I’m glad his baby’s all saved and shit. I just…I can’t, you don’t know how hard-” He cuts himself off the way he usually does when he doesn’t wanna admit something out loud, to put it out there as reality instead of just locking it safely inside his head. We’re alike in that, he and I, if not much else; we always were under the delusion that if we never said something, nobody could possibly know it but us.
Shaking his head, he pats Mige’s hand, gives him a thank you glance, and heads the opposite direction from where I’m standing. Thank fuck for that. I don’t want to know what he’d think of the echoing hurt and need I can feel in my face, if he saw it.
“You can come out now, Viltsu. He’s gone, for good again, probably.” My best friend’s voice propels me out of where my feet seem stuck to the floor, and I swallow and cross to him, rounding the corner, confirming his suspicions that I heard everything, just by my face, if not my appearance.
“I hate to say I told you so, but…well, like with everything else, I did, and I was right, and you’re too stubborn to do anything about it regardless. The conversation we’re about to have is going to be pointless, but I’m going to try anyway. Just let me get a drink so I don’t end up choking you to death when you look your second chance in the face and spit on it.”
I roll my eyes and pretend he’s wrong, nursing a glass of sparkling grape juice while my friends and colleagues drink wine around me. I can’t get Bam’s words out of my brain, and as with most things, they’re making me think far too hard about something that’s so simple I know it on a cellular level.
***
So you don't know much yet. That'll change...
This is more a glimpse than a plot.
Is it worth it? Let me know!
Especially you, Miss Ria. It's all for you, love!