The Three-Month Blue Jeans

October.

“Bam, how do I work this thing?”

Ville was in the laundry room, staring at the buttons on the washing machine.

“How the fuck should I know?” Bam asked, poking his head in the door and crossing his arms. “Do I look like someone who does chores?”

“Didn’t April show you how to work it once?”

“Do I look like someone who would remember that?”

“You look like someone I’m about to deck.”

“PMS much?”

Ville glared at his best friend, pulling a pair of jeans out of the washer and putting them on. “Remind me why I’m here again.”

“Because you broke up with your fiancé and shouldn’t be in Finland brooding about it.”

“I wasn’t really brooding about it, Bammie, love.”

“Well, it’s an excuse to get you out here.”

“Since when do you need an excuse to get me out here?”

Bam opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, opening it once more before glaring at Ville and leaving the room. Ville heard the front door opening followed by ‘fucking Finnish fucker’ before it slammed again.

Truthfully, no one really knew why Ville was in West Chester. Bam hadn’t asked him to come and Ville hadn’t really planned it. He just walked into the airport one day and got a ticket for a couple days later. He showed up with a duffel bag and a carton of cigarettes.

Bam got him drunk after he heard about Jonna, then drug him to bed after Ville all but passed out from liquor and exhaustion. Ville, however, upon a waking up ten minutes later to vomit, crawled into bed with his best friend and fell asleep, pale but with a hint of a smile on his lips.

* * *

Ville was still in the same pair of jeans three days later, despite Bam saying he could just take them over to his parents’ house so April could wash them. ”Bam, you’re way too old to have your mother wash your clothes . . . or to stick your tongue out at me. Yes, I saw that.”

Bam had also decided that a swimming pool was as good as a washing machine and had pushed Ville into it twice that day. Vengeance is sweet, however, and Ville had grabbed Bam’s hand the second time he was pushed. It’s not warm enough in October to go swimming, so the pair were freezing as they hurried up to the house to immerse themselves in a jet of hot water.

Now they were both sitting on the couch watching ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’ and drinking beer, Ville smoking a cigarette and Bam sneezing every ten minutes or so.

“You’re getting a cold.” Ville said, stating the obvious. “Pools in October aren’t a good idea, love.” The older boy left the room for a moment, returning with a heartagram blanket from Bam’s room, which he wrapped around the other boy’s shoulders.

“Well, why aren’t you sneezing then?” Bam asked irritably, wiping at his suddenly streaming eyes.

“Helsinki thermostat, Bammie. You’re just a pussy.” Ville teased, sitting down next to Bam and making sure the blanket was tight around him.

Bam wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. “If you would have washed your jeans, none of this would have happened.”

“You wouldn’t tell me how!”

“I told you to give them to Ape!”

Ville rolled his eyes and went to start a pot of coffee.

November.

It was the week before Thanksgiving and Ville was still in his unwashed jeans. Except for Bam forcing him into a bathtub fully clothed a few times they had been untouched by soap or water. April had literally tried to steal them to wash, but Bam had thwarted her, now interested in how long Ville would go without washing them.

Jonna had called a handful times and Ville would leave his cell phone open on the counter so his ex-fiancé was talking to air. It was a very ‘Bam thing’ to do according to several people, much to Ville’s amusement.

Jonna had called Bam’s home phone once and after the skateboarder had yelled at her to the point of reducing her to tears, she hadn’t called back. Ville still wouldn’t tell Bam who had done the breaking up or what the reason was, but he still found Bam’s telling off of Jonna one of the funniest things he’d ever heard.

Now, however, no one was on the phone. Ville and Bam were doing shots in the kitchen while the younger tried to get details from the Finn.

“Did she cheat on you?”

“No.”

“Did you cheat on her?”

“No.”

“Did you find out she used to be a man?”

“No.” Ville answered, amused.

“Are you going to say ‘no’ to every question I ask?”

Ville nodded, doing another shot. “Why do you want to know so much?”

“I want to know why I was yelling at the bitch for one. And why you guys broke up two weeks after you got the tattoo.” Bam reached out and traced his thumb over the inked ‘J’ on his friend’s ring finger. Ville pulled away abruptly, knocking his shot glass to the floor where it shattered. “Dude—“

Ville stood up, unsteadily due to the alcohol in his system. “I’m going to bed. Talk to me when you grow up.”

“Talk to me when you’ve pulled your head out of your ass.”

“Don’t talk to me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you back.” Ville snapped, storming off.

* * *

“Go away.” Ville mumbled, pushing at Bam when the younger boy crawled into his bed later that night.

“No.” Bam said tiredly, forcing his way under the blankets. “It’s my house anyway.”

“You’re a bastard.” Ville said, refusing to open his eyes and look into Bam’s blue ones.

“That bad, huh?”

“I hate you.”

Bam sighed. “Go to sleep, Ville.” He slipped out from under the sheets and left, shutting the door behind him.

It was hours before either of them gave into fatigue.

When Ville woke up the next morning, Bam was sitting on the floor, his back against the door. “Hi.” the blue-eyed boy said quietly. Ville stared at him without saying anything. “Do you still hate me?”

“Almost.” Ville muttered.

“That’s good enough, I guess.” Bam said, lightly banging his head against the door. “Can you at least tell me if she’s a bitch?”

“No, I can’t.” Ville sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

Bam stared at him. “Whatever.”

“It had to do with you.” Ville said after a pause.

Bam stood up and crossed the room, kneeling in front of Ville on the bed. “Me? What about me?”

“Didn’t I tell you enough?”

“No.” Bam said. “If I’m the reason you’re not getting married, I should know why.”

Ville leaned forward, resting his head against Bam’s chest. “I’ll tell you when you grow up.”

Bam’s hand gently ran though Ville’s hair. “Never, you mean?”

Ville sighed. “I need a drink.”

“All right.”

December.

Ville and Bam were at the mall, shopping for presents. Or rather, they were supposed to be shopping for Christmas presents, but instead were terrorizing people and buying things for themselves. Ville was still in his unwashed jeans, which had been attacked by the water sprayer on Bam’s sink a few times and earlier that day, in fact. He still hadn’t worn another pair.

“Fuck this.” Bam said suddenly. “I can shop online.” He grabbed Ville’s arm and pulled him through the mall, sticking his tongue out at a random old lady give him a once-over. Ville laughed, leaning in and whispering his friends ear: “I think you have a secret admirer, love.”

Bam let go of Ville and smacked the back of his head. “Fucker.”

Ville smirked. “Well, she looked your type.”

“Because my type has wrinkles like an elephant and tits that hang to her knees.”

“It’s not my fetish.”

Bam rolled his eyes as they left the mall, walking toward the Hummer. “Let’s eat.”

“Eat what? Besides your sexy girlfriend back there?”

“Fuck you, Valo.”

“Is that an offer?”

“Man, you need to get laid.”

“Didn’t you just offer to make that happen?”

“You wish.”

“Not really, Bammie-love.”

“I’m hurt.”

“You should be. I have extremely low standards and you still don’t make the cut.”

Christmas Eve.

Bam’s cell phone hadn’t stopped ringing, but he was ignoring it. Ever the romantic, Ville had forced Jonna—prior break up—to set the wedding date for Christmas Eve. So Bam had rented a hotel room and was proceeding to get his friend to the brink of alcohol poisoning. He hadn’t, however, told anyone where he was going. Thus the nonstop phone calls from his mother.

Ville was now standing in a cold shower, fully clothed, so Bam thought it was a relatively decent time to make a phone call. Rolling his eyes at the twenty-seven messages from his mother and thirty-three missed calls, he dialed the number.

“Where the hell are you?” April demanded, answering her phone almost immediately.

“With Ville.” Bam said, rolling his eyes and picking up his beer from the bedside table.

“And where’s Ville?”

“With me.”

“And where exactly is that, Bam Margera?”

“You know the wedding was set for today, right? Well, I figured he shouldn’t be around a ton of people with fake smiles and all that holiday bullshit. Gotta go.” he said, hanging up the phone as Ville stepped out of the shower, soaked from head to toe.

Ville’s eyes glanced at the cell phone in Bam’s hand before closing his eyes, dropping to the hotel room floor. His forehead rested in one of his hands. He heard footsteps, but his eyes didn’t open until he felt something tugging at his hair. He could see Bam’s reflection in the mirrored closet door; the skateboarder was running a hairbrush through Ville’s wet locks.

“Bammie . . .” Ville’s artistic fingers reached out to the mirror, tenderly grazing over Bam’s mirrored form. The other said nothing, just repositioned himself as Ville turned to look at reflections.

It was a moment before Bam dropped the hairbrush, leaning forward and resting his chin on Ville’s shoulder. “You’re soaked. And shivering.”

Ville nearly retorted with a smartass comment for Bam’s first statement, but he suddenly realized the second was true. He turned to look at Bam with a small smile, their noses nearly touching.

“You didn’t bring any other clothes, did you?”

Ville gave a small shake of his head.

Bam shrugged. “Sheets’ll work fine.” He stood up, offering Ville a hand. After the older had managed to stand, he started the struggle of getting out of the soaked pair of jeans. The shirt was easy enough and was immediately thrown in Bam’s face.

And suddenly, for no real reason at all, Bam’s eyes started to attend to other tasks as Ville’s jeans gradually managed to slip lower and lower down his elegant form. First it was to rifle through the minibar, then to look out the window, then to check the channels on the television. It was ridiculous and made no sense at all considering the number of times the two had seen each other unclothed, but Bam’s eyes remained fixed to the television screen nonetheless. It wasn’t until he heard the sheets on the bed rustle that he turned to look at Ville.

The Finn was paler than normal, which was saying a lot, and his ears the tip of his nose were red. Bam snorted before starting a pot of coffee. “You’re a dumb fuck.” he said, laughing as he sat on the bed beside Ville, albeit on top of the sheets.

“It’s a far cry short of a good fuck, but I’ll take what I can get.” Ville said. His words were a bit short, as were his breaths.

“All the way under the sheets, Valo.” Bam said, sounding oddly maternal. Obediently, Ville slipped lower until he was lying on his back and the sheets were covering him. He turned to look at Bam, who was lying on his stomach.

“It would have already been Christmas there.” Ville murmured. He gave a soft chuckle. “The honeymoon would have been over.” It was an odd play on words, but made sense in an equally odd sort of way, at least to the pair.

Bam was quiet for a moment. It was the first time Ville had mentioned Jonna or the wedding that day, or for several in fact. He opted for humor, hoping it would suffice. “You’re on a honeymoon with me, man. What’s better than that?”

Ville gave another laugh, his gaze suddenly intense. “What indeed?”

To Bam, the hand that reached out to stroke his cheek came out of nowhere, but it was much slower than that, much more tentative than he realized. Ville’s pale fingers lightly caressed Bam’s skin before drifting to the skateboarder’s slightly shocked, slightly terrified, slightly parted lips. “’S all right, Bammie.” the older man murmured before the kiss.

Bam clumsily responded to the kiss, eyes wide and hands trembling as they found Ville’s skin. His mind was racing, struggling to understand why this was happening, why he wasn’t disgusted, why he didn’t want to pull away, why he was suddenly hungry for Ville’s taste. His thoughts were a roar, but they didn’t matter.

Both men knew.

This was the way it was always supposed to be.

“Never had a chance.” Bam muttered as his lips drifted to Ville’s neck.

Christmas Day.

“That’s why , isn’t it?” Bam asked as they drove toward his house. They would change and then go to his parents’ for the holiday.

Ville nodded mutely, raking a hand through his hair.

“But who—“

“She did.” Ville answered. He and Bam exchanged a quick glance. “She knew. Smart girl, Jonna. Not a saint, though.” he added. “She had a few affairs on the side.” He lit a cigarette. “Always a rocky relationship.”

Bam nodded. It was awkward to have, for lack of a better term, an awkward silence between him and Ville. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. His teeth bit his bottom lip as he swallowed nervously.

Smiling, Ville reached out and placed his hand over Bam’s. “I know.”

The skateboard smiled back.

* * *

“Oh, thank God.” April said to Ville as he and Bam walked into the house. “I thought you were never going to change out of those jeans.”