The Boy Who Looked Like a Girl

"I can't believe I pierced your ear just so you could take it out." Bam complained when Ville emerged from the bathroom, sans earring.

"If you wouldn't have done it wrong I--"

"Because I have so much practice!" Bam interrupted, laughing. "What time you have to be back today?"

Ville shrugged, sitting down next to Bam on the couch. "I don't know. Late." He turned and looked at his friend, an unexplainable calm in his voice. "Why?"

"You ever go into Philly and not club?" Bam asked. Ville raised an eyebrow. "My parents are going. And we can go do whatever."

"Minus clubbing."

"Minus drinking."

"Minus smoking?"

"Shut up."

* * *

Ville dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk as Bam suddenly grabbed his arm and started dragging him into a record store. ". . . fucking Christ." he muttered as Bam drug him through the store, grinning at the sales clerk glaring at them.

"I need the new Poison Trinity CD." he said, scanning the titles in the rock section. "It came out last week but they don't carry shit in town."

"Never heard of them." Ville said, casually flipping through CDs.

Bam looked at him, half smirking. "I'll forgive you because you're from Finland."

"Finnish rock is much better than American rock, I'll have you know." Ville said.

"Name a band." Bam challenged.

Ville rolled his eyes. "I saw lots of underground bands." he said. "There was this club about fifteen blocks from where I lived called Kauhistus. Everything you couldn't hear on the radio. Sadistic Chain was their house band."

"Sadistic Chain?" Bam grinned. "Rad. You got any of their stuff?"

"I think I might have a copy somewhere." Ville said, fingers stopping on a CD. "This the one you're looking for?" he asked, holding it out for Bam's inspection.

"Bastards put it in the wrong place." Bam said, trying to take it from Ville. "I've got to pay for it, dumbshit. Give it here."

Ville gave a mischievous grin Bam knew too well, it was the one his mother caught on camera every 9 out of 10 pictures. "That sales lady gave us a really dirty look when we came in."

"And?"

* * *

"How often do you lift stuff?" Bam asked when they were on the sidewalk again, after Ville passed him the liberated CD.

"I get bored easily." Ville said. "Besides, I don't like cash registers."

"That's kind of fucked up." Bam laughed. "I've never met anyone who had a particular grudge against cash registers."

Ville stopped outside a bar, opening his mouth when Bam shook his head. "I'm not getting a drink." he said. "I need another pack of smokes. Just give me two minutes."

"My parents'll kill me if they find out."

"They won't." Ville promised, disappearing into the darkly lit building. He scanned the area quickly, walking up to the bartender and starting his bullshit story. "I'm looking for a friend. He told me to meet him here. You haven't seen some freaky looking guy with green spiked hair, have you?"

His hands snaked into the pocket of the coat resting on the chair behind him.

"Can't tell you I have." the bartender said as Ville's fingers wrapped around the cigarette box.

"Thanks." Ville slipped the cigarettes casually into his own pocket as he walked out of the bar, laughing at the look of relief on Bam's face. "I told you two minutes." He pulled the box out of his pocket, raising an eyebrow. "Lights? Who the fuck smokes lights?"

"Whoever you took that from, I expect." Bam said, laughing when Ville failed to look amused.

"Whatever." Ville lit a cigarette from the half empty pack. Or half full if I were a nicer person. "Where next?"

Bam shrugged. "Where do you want to go?"

"Don't care. Just don't make me drop my cigarette dislocating my shoulder again." Ville grinned, wondering how the hell he was managing to feel so . . . normal . . . when he hadn't taken a pill, had a drink, done something incredibly stupid like jump off a house.

"Pussy."

"Oh, shut up." Ville looked ahead of him again, freezing. His cigarette dropped to the ground. Green eyes widened and the boy who looked like a girl panicked, running through the first door he found.

Bam turned when he felt Ville brush past him. He glanced around for a minute trying to figure out what had scared the hell out of his friend. Biting his lip, he turned and walked into the building Ville had disappeared into.

It was a shoe store. Suppressing a groan, Bam walked past the armless mannequins and into the men's room, hoping he would find Ville there rather than buried under a stack of high heels.

The boy who looked like a girl was leaning against the sink, eyeliner pencil in hand, bottom lip trembling despite his clenched jaw trying to remain steady. He closed his green eyes when the blue eyed boy entered, as if that would make him go away.

"Ville?"

The eyeliner pencil snapped in Ville's hand. Green eyes opened, exhausted, hurt. "What?" It was a hoarse whisper.

Bam looked so young standing there suddenly. Biting his lip, confusion written onto every line of his face, piercing blue eyes concerned, one shoe untied.

Ville stood up, tossing the eyeliner in the trash and grabbing a papertowel. "It's nothing. Let's go."

"But . . ." Bam lowered his eyes as he followed Ville back outside. But I want to help you.

He looked up when he felt Ville touch his face gently. "Come on." he murmured. Ville's heart dropped to his stomach and he felt like he might explode when Bam quickly grabbed his hand, as if afraid he might back out if he thought about it too long.

I want you. I want to be you. I want to keep you. In a box on my dresser where I can look at you always. I want you to rub off on me. I don't want you to ever be like me.

* * *

"Tell me something." Bam said when they sat down in the food court at the mall where they were supposed to meet his parents in an hour.

"Like what?" Ville asked, drumming his fingers on the table, ignoring the food Bam had forced him to get.

"Something real. About you." Bam's voice was forceful, his eyes were hurt. "Tell me why you freaked out."

"No." Ville said, no room for argument in his voice.

"Then tell me where you went in the club?"

"Why are you so obsessed with the fucking club thing?" Ville snapped, desperately craving a 'happy pill'.

"Because you won't tell me." Bam said simply.

"You don't always get what you want." Ville muttered, glancing elsewhere. A girl in pigtails was crying as a woman eight months pregnant tried to explain that they couldn't afford whatever she was crying over. Next to them a girl was trying to smile as her boyfriend attempted to feel her up in public. Next to them a girl in all black was yelling at her younger sister dressed in jeans and a tee shirt.

"You don't want to know." Ville said. "I don't want you to know. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"I'd rather not. What the fuck?" Ville snapped when Bam kicked him under the table. Swearing in Finnish, he kicked the younger boy back.

"Just fucking tell me already." Bam snapped.

"I was getting high." Ville hissed. It was only half the truth, but it was already more than what Bam needed to hear.

"On what?"

"Pill cocktail. I don't know what was in it." Ville muttered, determinedly not looking at the boy across from him. He didn't want to see the disgust in those bright blue eyes.

"You're a fucking idiot. You know that, right?"

Ville gave a small shrug, looking younger than Bam had ever seen him.

"How often do you do that shit?" he asked, lowering his voice when several eyes turned his way. "Ville?"

"Once in awhile." If 'awhile' means every day or two. He finally got up the nerve to look at Bam, biting his lip. The blue eyes were serious and unimpressed, but neither sparkled with malice or hatred. "Can we drop it?"

"Don't you ever do that shit around me." Bam said in a low voice.

Ville nodded. "I need a smoke." he said, standing up and walking off before Bam could protest.

Why won't you fucking hate me already? He fought the tears behind his green orbs. Don't be all sweet. Don't be nice if you're just going to be like him. Ville walked outside and leaned against the side of the building, lighting a cigarette. I told you so you would go away.

But he wasn't sure if that was true. He wasn't sure if he wanted Bam to go away or if he wanted him closer. He wanted to know why Bam held his hand, why Bam looked like that when Ville was breaking down in the shoe store.

Ville choked when two fingers pulled the cigarette from his mouth. He felt a hand hit him sharply between the shoulder blades until he finished coughing. "What the fuck is your--"

Bam laughed. "I won't do that again." he promised, rubbing Ville's back for a moment before handing the cigarette back. "I wasn't trying to kill you, I promise."

Ville took it, eyes widened slightly in wonderment. He trusts me. He took a drag, coughing slightly as he exhaled. Should I trust you?

* * *

"I thought you said you were going home." It was four hours later, an hour since Ville had left Bam's house.

"I said I was going back." Ville corrected. "I just didn't say when."

"Why the hell do you keep coming here?" Bam asked, sitting down next to Ville and lighting a cigarette.

I miss you. Ville shrugged, pulling the cigarette from Bam and taking a drag before letting the younger boy take it back. "I don't know. It's easy to think here."

Bam let out a snort. "Right. It's easy to think with a bunch of people screaming in the background. Maybe you secretly want to learn how to board." He nodded knowingly.

"And maybe I'm just plotting the best place to put a bomb." Ville teased, lighting a cigarette of his own. I'm just as bad for you as that cancer stick destroying your lungs. he thought, glancing away from those cerulean eyes looking at him over black fingernails holding a cigarette. "What the fuck'd you paint your nails for?" Ville demanded.

"Umm . . ." Bam flushed slightly. "I . . . I just did?"

I don't want you to be like me. Please don't ever be like me, Bammie. You don't want to be. But despite the desperate thoughts floating through his mind, Ville couldn't help but smile at the redness of the blue eyed boy's cheeks.

"What are you drawing?" Bam asked quickly, trying to cover up his embarrassment.

"I'm not." Ville said, still smiling.

"Yes, you are." Bam pulled the notebook off Ville's lap and looked at it. "Nina demon in tanssssvan valm--" He raised his eyebrows, looking thorougly overwhelmed. "Dude, what the fuck? It's all . . . Finnish."

Ville laughed and pulled the notebook away.

"Näin demonin tanssivan
valmistautumattomana taistelemaan kanssasi valossa
koskettamatta purppuranpunaista sadetta
mutta liian läheisesti sinun koskettamasi
ja menneisyyden lämmössä ryömin
häpeän polttamana.

"By the way, Bam, your accent's fucking terrible."

"Now that you're done making fun of me," Bam said, rolling his eyes, "what's it mean? In English."

Ville smiled, hesitating slightly before translating the poem.

"Saw a demon dancing
Unprepared to fight you in the light
Untouched by the crimson rain
But too closely touched by you.
And in the warmth of the past I crawl
Scorched by the shame."

Ville glanced at Bam who was staring at him with wide eyes, before shutting the book and taking a hasty drag off his cigarette. "It's stupid. I don't usually let people read them before they're done. It's just--"

"It's not stupid." Bam said, cutting him off. "I've just never heard anything like that. It's pretty."

Ville flinched noticeably.