Status: Discontinued.
The Boy Who Looked Like a Girl
Part Ten
Bam looked concerned, and confused as to why he needed to look concerned. "Ville?"
The older boy stared at him for a moment, green eyes shining. "Do you think I'm pretty?" he asked, panicky voice shaking.
Bam's eyes widened. "Ummm . . . what?" He looked as if he'd just been slapped.
Ville seemed to have lost all restraint as his painted fingers grabbed Bam's shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Do you think I'm pretty?" he demanded, tears so close to falling down his cheeks.
"What the fuck?" Bam let Ville shake him, face frozen in confusion, mouth partly open. Then he pulled away, shaking his head to clear it. "What the hell?" It came out wrong, the tone of it. It sounded angry. It was supposed to sound worried.
Ville's hands fell to his lap, his eyes staring at them, hair falling to cloak his face. He wasn't talking, wasn't moving. Bam could hear the deep, calculated breaths. They sat there for a moment, Ville scaring the hell out of Bam and Bam trying to act calm.
"Ville?" Bam asked softly.
Ville looked up at him quickly, hair falling out of his face. His green eyes were now dark and narrowed. "If you are," he warned Bam, "if you are, it won't be easy this time." His voice was cutting, like a poisoned dagger.
He left Bam there, speechless. The boy who looked like a girl, with a face like a warrior, walked away without looking back.
Bam's blue eyes filled with tears.
* * *
Bam sat on the edge of his bed, legs swinging. He picked at the black nail polish on his fingers, debating whether or not he should tell his parents what Ville had said at the mall, about the drugs.
Was he high when he said that stuff at the park? Bam fell back on his bed, covering his face with his hands. He knew Ville hadn't been. Bam wished he were. He wished that the most honest thing Ville had ever said to him wasn't something that made him sound like he needed a straight jacket.
Why was he looking at me like that? Why does he care if I think he's pretty or not? He cursed and sat up, pulling at his hair, knowing he couldn't tell, knowing he should.
Just let me in. I swear I'm not like . . . whatever you're afraid of.
* * *
Ville sat on the curb, staring at the house down the street from him. He watched the shadows through the window, lighting another cigarette when the light turned off in Bam's room.
I know you aren't. He closed his eyes, willing the tears to disappear. I know you're not, but I wish I knew what you were.
Ville pushed back the present, lost himself in a memory as he took another slow drag on his cigarette.
*
"Angels are warriors for God." the teacher said, smiling at the girl who had asked.
"But what do they do?"
"Angels keep bad things from happening to people. Sometimes God's hands get full so he sends angels to do things he can't."
"Are they like guardian angels?"
The teacher nodded. "Sometimes, yes."
"So why do bad things happen to people?" Ville asked. "If angels and God are supposed to keep bad things from happening, why do they still happen?"
"Because of sin." the teacher said gently. "Adam and Eve sinned and that caused bad things to happen."
"I think God killed His angels," Ville said, "because He likes bad things to happen to us."
*
Ville gasped, eyes flying open, cigarette falling to the ground. "Fucking Christ." he breathed, green eyes flicking to the darkened window.
Are you my blue eyed angel?
* * *
On Monday, Ville showed up at Bam's house early. He stumbled through the door when Bam opened it, his bloodshot eyes laughing. He didn't have any make up on and was dressed in loose jeans and a hoodie, laughing.
"I can't go to school." he told his friend. "I don't think I've ever been this fucking drunk before."
Bam would have laughed normally, at the sight of someone drunk before eight in the morning. But Ville's laughter was on the edge of tears. "Ummm . . . Ville? Care to tell me why you're completely wasted?"
"My uncle died." Ville said. "It took my uncle dying for my parents to call me since I got here in January."
"I'm sorry?" Bam said, biting his lip. Ville? Ville, what's wrong with you? Ville, tell me the truth.
"I'm not." Ville said. "I hated him. Fucking prick. Died in his sleep. Didn't even suffer."
"Ville, I . . ." Bam didn't know what to say. ". . . I'll skip school with you."
* * *
The boy who looked like a girl was sitting on the grass smoking while the blue eyed boy watched him, biting his lip. He didn't like feeling like this. Didn't like feeling so confused. "Ville?"
The green eyed boy looked at him.
"Saturday? At the skatepark? Why'd you ask me if--"
"Shut up." Ville said. "I don't want to talk about it. Just forget it, all right?"
"But--"
"I don't want to talk about it." Ville snapped. "I was just in a weird mood. Let's change the fucking subject."
Bam's face grew red and his eyes narrowed. "You don't trust me at all, do you? You don't trust anyone."
"It's not about trust." Ville snapped. "I like you too much to tell you."
"Bullshit."
"You wouldn't understand."
"Make me understand."
"I don't want you to understand."
"I hate you."
"I hate you more."
And then Bam leaned over and pressed his lips to Ville's feather soft ones, taking advantage of Ville gasping to slide his tongue inside his mouth, tasting the boy he couldn't stop staring at, couldn't stop thinking about.
Suddenly, Ville pushed him away, his face frozen in fear. "W-Why . . . why would you . . . why did you do that?"
But despite the fact that the kiss had melted his insides, Ville's _expression drove Bam back to the verge of anger. "Because I think you're pretty." he snarled.
Ville's green eyes grew dark and his hand reached out, smacking Bam across the face. "You're all the same! You're all the fucking same, aren't you? Why'd you have to be so nice if you were just going to . . . I thought you were different. I thought . . ." His eyes filled with tears.
He stood up to leave, but Bam reached out and pulled him back down, horrified. "Ville, I didn't mean that." he said panicked. "I just said it because I was mad. Oh, fuck. Ville, I'm sorry. I didn't . . ." Tears sprung into his eyes. "Shit."
"Why do you have to be like this?" Ville demanded, bottom lip trembling. "Why do you have to be so fucking perfect?"
The older boy stared at him for a moment, green eyes shining. "Do you think I'm pretty?" he asked, panicky voice shaking.
Bam's eyes widened. "Ummm . . . what?" He looked as if he'd just been slapped.
Ville seemed to have lost all restraint as his painted fingers grabbed Bam's shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Do you think I'm pretty?" he demanded, tears so close to falling down his cheeks.
"What the fuck?" Bam let Ville shake him, face frozen in confusion, mouth partly open. Then he pulled away, shaking his head to clear it. "What the hell?" It came out wrong, the tone of it. It sounded angry. It was supposed to sound worried.
Ville's hands fell to his lap, his eyes staring at them, hair falling to cloak his face. He wasn't talking, wasn't moving. Bam could hear the deep, calculated breaths. They sat there for a moment, Ville scaring the hell out of Bam and Bam trying to act calm.
"Ville?" Bam asked softly.
Ville looked up at him quickly, hair falling out of his face. His green eyes were now dark and narrowed. "If you are," he warned Bam, "if you are, it won't be easy this time." His voice was cutting, like a poisoned dagger.
He left Bam there, speechless. The boy who looked like a girl, with a face like a warrior, walked away without looking back.
Bam's blue eyes filled with tears.
* * *
Bam sat on the edge of his bed, legs swinging. He picked at the black nail polish on his fingers, debating whether or not he should tell his parents what Ville had said at the mall, about the drugs.
Was he high when he said that stuff at the park? Bam fell back on his bed, covering his face with his hands. He knew Ville hadn't been. Bam wished he were. He wished that the most honest thing Ville had ever said to him wasn't something that made him sound like he needed a straight jacket.
Why was he looking at me like that? Why does he care if I think he's pretty or not? He cursed and sat up, pulling at his hair, knowing he couldn't tell, knowing he should.
Just let me in. I swear I'm not like . . . whatever you're afraid of.
* * *
Ville sat on the curb, staring at the house down the street from him. He watched the shadows through the window, lighting another cigarette when the light turned off in Bam's room.
I know you aren't. He closed his eyes, willing the tears to disappear. I know you're not, but I wish I knew what you were.
Ville pushed back the present, lost himself in a memory as he took another slow drag on his cigarette.
*
"Angels are warriors for God." the teacher said, smiling at the girl who had asked.
"But what do they do?"
"Angels keep bad things from happening to people. Sometimes God's hands get full so he sends angels to do things he can't."
"Are they like guardian angels?"
The teacher nodded. "Sometimes, yes."
"So why do bad things happen to people?" Ville asked. "If angels and God are supposed to keep bad things from happening, why do they still happen?"
"Because of sin." the teacher said gently. "Adam and Eve sinned and that caused bad things to happen."
"I think God killed His angels," Ville said, "because He likes bad things to happen to us."
*
Ville gasped, eyes flying open, cigarette falling to the ground. "Fucking Christ." he breathed, green eyes flicking to the darkened window.
Are you my blue eyed angel?
* * *
On Monday, Ville showed up at Bam's house early. He stumbled through the door when Bam opened it, his bloodshot eyes laughing. He didn't have any make up on and was dressed in loose jeans and a hoodie, laughing.
"I can't go to school." he told his friend. "I don't think I've ever been this fucking drunk before."
Bam would have laughed normally, at the sight of someone drunk before eight in the morning. But Ville's laughter was on the edge of tears. "Ummm . . . Ville? Care to tell me why you're completely wasted?"
"My uncle died." Ville said. "It took my uncle dying for my parents to call me since I got here in January."
"I'm sorry?" Bam said, biting his lip. Ville? Ville, what's wrong with you? Ville, tell me the truth.
"I'm not." Ville said. "I hated him. Fucking prick. Died in his sleep. Didn't even suffer."
"Ville, I . . ." Bam didn't know what to say. ". . . I'll skip school with you."
* * *
The boy who looked like a girl was sitting on the grass smoking while the blue eyed boy watched him, biting his lip. He didn't like feeling like this. Didn't like feeling so confused. "Ville?"
The green eyed boy looked at him.
"Saturday? At the skatepark? Why'd you ask me if--"
"Shut up." Ville said. "I don't want to talk about it. Just forget it, all right?"
"But--"
"I don't want to talk about it." Ville snapped. "I was just in a weird mood. Let's change the fucking subject."
Bam's face grew red and his eyes narrowed. "You don't trust me at all, do you? You don't trust anyone."
"It's not about trust." Ville snapped. "I like you too much to tell you."
"Bullshit."
"You wouldn't understand."
"Make me understand."
"I don't want you to understand."
"I hate you."
"I hate you more."
And then Bam leaned over and pressed his lips to Ville's feather soft ones, taking advantage of Ville gasping to slide his tongue inside his mouth, tasting the boy he couldn't stop staring at, couldn't stop thinking about.
Suddenly, Ville pushed him away, his face frozen in fear. "W-Why . . . why would you . . . why did you do that?"
But despite the fact that the kiss had melted his insides, Ville's _expression drove Bam back to the verge of anger. "Because I think you're pretty." he snarled.
Ville's green eyes grew dark and his hand reached out, smacking Bam across the face. "You're all the same! You're all the fucking same, aren't you? Why'd you have to be so nice if you were just going to . . . I thought you were different. I thought . . ." His eyes filled with tears.
He stood up to leave, but Bam reached out and pulled him back down, horrified. "Ville, I didn't mean that." he said panicked. "I just said it because I was mad. Oh, fuck. Ville, I'm sorry. I didn't . . ." Tears sprung into his eyes. "Shit."
"Why do you have to be like this?" Ville demanded, bottom lip trembling. "Why do you have to be so fucking perfect?"