Status: In process. Second to my largest story of course.
At the bottom of everything.
Beginning
Homesickness; It was something I had never really felt. Suddenly here I was in my home away from home and all I could think about was my mama and papa, the house in the suburbs and the way the snow lay heavy in the winter. Pennsylvania was nothing like there. Their blanket of snow was not as white or as crisp as the stuff we got back in Finland.
Even as I felt the chill of the breeze around my neck, it didn’t nip as hard as the northern winds. Still, I pulled my scarf tighter and trod on. For a while now, a week to be precise, I had felt nothing but heartache and longing. But I couldn’t go home, nor could I even speak to mama and papa. I wasn’t their little boy anymore.
My feet were moving without my realizing and my heart beat on without my consent; I’d really rather it didn’t. I was just pleased that the boys had called a ‘time out’ on the band leaving me to deal with my own emotional problems. Like always. At least they hadn’t disowned me; at least they were living in the real world, the modern 21st century.
“This sort of heartache is good for writing.” Bam would say with a fragile grin on his face.
I would ‘humph’ and turn away from him. He had no clue how it felt to be cast away by your own parents. His had no problem with our relationship, in fact, they were more than happy. April and Phil were always so understanding and kind. Seeing my despair they often brought me coffee and cigarettes, chocolate and warm, loving hugs; Parental hugs.
I love Bam, more than I have ever loved any one in my life. If I ever lost him my heart would stop beating of its own accord. They always spoke of people dying from broken hearts, well; I knew that was how I would die. Damn it, the band were able to understand that and Ape and Phil could understand. Why couldn’t mama and papa? Even Jessie hated me for being with Bam.
I shrugged away my tears, pulled my scarf up over my nose and walked on down the street. I was only wasting my tears and feeling sorry for myself.
Sometimes, just sometimes, I think too much.
Even as I felt the chill of the breeze around my neck, it didn’t nip as hard as the northern winds. Still, I pulled my scarf tighter and trod on. For a while now, a week to be precise, I had felt nothing but heartache and longing. But I couldn’t go home, nor could I even speak to mama and papa. I wasn’t their little boy anymore.
My feet were moving without my realizing and my heart beat on without my consent; I’d really rather it didn’t. I was just pleased that the boys had called a ‘time out’ on the band leaving me to deal with my own emotional problems. Like always. At least they hadn’t disowned me; at least they were living in the real world, the modern 21st century.
“This sort of heartache is good for writing.” Bam would say with a fragile grin on his face.
I would ‘humph’ and turn away from him. He had no clue how it felt to be cast away by your own parents. His had no problem with our relationship, in fact, they were more than happy. April and Phil were always so understanding and kind. Seeing my despair they often brought me coffee and cigarettes, chocolate and warm, loving hugs; Parental hugs.
I love Bam, more than I have ever loved any one in my life. If I ever lost him my heart would stop beating of its own accord. They always spoke of people dying from broken hearts, well; I knew that was how I would die. Damn it, the band were able to understand that and Ape and Phil could understand. Why couldn’t mama and papa? Even Jessie hated me for being with Bam.
I shrugged away my tears, pulled my scarf up over my nose and walked on down the street. I was only wasting my tears and feeling sorry for myself.
Sometimes, just sometimes, I think too much.
♠ ♠ ♠
Short. So, verdict? Yay or nay?P.S I do not own Bam, Ville or anyone - if I did I wouldn't be writing stories.