The Boy Who Looked Like a Girl

"Why do you have to be like this?" Ville demanded, bottom lip trembling. "Why do you have to be so fucking perfect?"

Bam's eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly as he gazed at Ville is disbelief. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. You think I'm perfect?"

Ville reached out and took Bam's hand is his own. "You remind me of me, when I was five."

"You're really doing a lot for my ego here, Ville." Bam teased softly, his heart not really in it.

Ville just gave a sad sort of smile. "I want to be you, Bammie. So bad."

"Why?" the blue eyed boy asked, concern in his orbs. He manuevered his hand, interlocking his fingers with Ville's. "Why would you want to be me? You're so . . . I want to be you."

Ville's eyes went wide. "Don't you ever say that." he said, panic rising in his voice. "Ever. You don't want to be like me. It's pure hell. You're so happy when you smile, Bam. I don't want that to ever change. Promise me?"

"Promise what?" Bam asked, confused.

"You won't be like me. That you won't ever understand." he pleaded.

Bam faltered. "I-I . . . I can't." he whispered. "I want to understand. I want to help you."

Ville leaned forward and lightly kissed Bam's forehead. "I have to go."

"Why?" Bam asked, standing up as Ville did, following his friend as he walked into the house.

"I need you to promise." Ville said. "And you won't, so I'm going to leave before something bad happens."

Bam flared up again. His eyes, which had been full of touching concern only seconds before were now shadowed. He grabbed Ville and threw him against the wall, hands on the other boy's shoulders. "Something bad? Like what?"

"Like me telling you!" Ville cried. "Like me answering your questions and then answering all the questions you'll have after I answer those. I don't want you to stop smiling and being happy. You'll just get fucked up if you have anything to do with me. I'm a waste of time, all right?"

"You aren't!" Bam yelled back. "You aren't a waste of time. I want to be with you when you're not here and when you are I want to know everything about you so I can be that much closer to you. You can't protect me, Ville. You're not God."

"And you're not my fucking blue-eyed angel." Ville snarled. "You think you can fix it if I tell you. You're just a kid, Bam."

"So are you!"

Ville's eyes filled with tears as he pushed Bam away from him. "I haven't been a kid since I was six years old." he whispered. He moved toward the door, but it opened before he made it there.

April Margera stepped through the door, shock and slight anger in her light eyes. "Why aren't you two in school?" she demanded, setting her purse on the counter. "You'd better have a damn good explanation."

"Ville's uncle died." Bam said quickly. "He didn't want to go to school so I said I'd stay with him."

April surveyed him for a moment, before deciding her son was telling the truth. Then she turned to Ville. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry." And before the boy could stop her, she had pulled him into a tender hug.

Ville's bottom lip trembled and a single tear ran down his cheek as he struggled to remember the last time his mother had hugged him. "Thank you." he whispered.

April just nodded.

* * *

Ville was sitting Indian-style on Bam's floor, answering the questions his friend was reading off from a quiz on the Internet. Their emotions had slipped below the radar somewhat after April had come home.

"What do you look for in the opposite sex?" Bam asked. "Hotness, personality, sex, status, or good fashion?"

"Good fashion." Ville said, giving a soft laugh.

"I think you're definitely batting for the other team." Bam said, clicking the button.

"I think after that kiss in the backyard you've got no fucking room to talk." Ville said, running a hand through his hair.

Bam turned around, shaking his head and pressing a finger to his lips. "I don't want my parents to know." he said.

Ville raised an eyebrow. "Do you think they'd care? I mean, they put up with me."

"They fucking love you." Bam said. "I just . . . don't know and I don't want them to know until I do. It's one thing to say you're okay with it, it's another to actually be okay with it."

"So . . ." Ville looked up. "Are you actually okay with it if I am?"

Bam rolled his eyes. "No. I'd freak out if I kissed a queer. Of course I'm okay with it, you freak." He turned back to the computer. "Would you rather: go to the moon, go to the mall, go to a foreign country, or go scuba diving?"

"The moon." Ville said.

Bam clicked the mouse a few times and then grinned. "The tee shirt that best fits you is: 'Never knock on heaven's door. Ring the bell then run away. (He hates that.)"

Ville snorted. "Nice. As if I'd get to see Heaven's door anyway."

"Maybe they're hiring interns." Bam teased. He sighed and turned away from the computer, boredom written on his face. "Ville?"

"Hmmm?"

"Were you telling me the truth when you said you'd never kissed anyone?" Bam asked. "Or were you just saying that?"

Ville nodded slowly, biting his lip. "I was telling the truth."

"So . . . I was your first kiss?" Bam asked, slipping off the computer chair and crawling across the room to his friend. He sat on his knees in front of Ville, waiting.

"I didn't kiss back." Ville said, slightly unnerved by the blue eyes looking up at him.

Bam paused, thinking. "So . . . how many people have kissed you that you didn't kiss back?"

Ville looked away. "I should go."

"I don't care." Bam said. "If you let people kiss you. I don't think you're a--"

Ville put his hand over Bam's mouth, an ugly expression on his face. "Don't. I hate that word."

"What word?" Bam asked, his voice muffled and his lips tickling Ville's hand.

"Whore. Slut. Tease. Easy. Take your pick." Ville said. "I'm not."

"That's what I was getting ready to say." Bam snapped, prying Ville's hand off of his mouth. "Now are you going to tell me?"

"No." Ville said. "I'm not. And I need a smoke."

"You're going to tell me someday." Bam said, standing up and offering a hand to Ville. The other boy didn't take it, pushing himself off the ground. "I promise. You'll get sick of this."

"I doubt it." Ville said, glancing at Bam's clock. It's nine already? He didn't want to go back to the Taylors', to the house that would never be home. Keeping quiet would just remind him about his mother's phone call. He hated silence like that. Reminding him.

Ville and Bam snuck out the window, the younger claiming his parents wouldn't want them walking around at night. ("As if we'll get fucking mugged.")

They walked down the street, sitting on the curb to smoke from the pack of Marlboro Reds Ville said he had lifted the day before. "Come here." Ville said, beckoning Bam's face closer to his with a finger. "Open your mouth." His painted lips took a drag off the cigarette, then moved to Bam's as he blew smoke into the younger boy's mouth.

He pulled away, letting Bam exhale before slowly slipping a finger under the blue eyed boy's chin. "I meant it earlier," he murmured, "when I said you were perfect, when I said I wanted to be you." He batted his eyelashes shyly. "But if I can't be you . . . then maybe . . ." He bit his lip, before lightly planting a kiss to Bam's lips. "Maybe I can be with you?"

* * *

Bam went to sleep that night with a smile dancing across his mouth.

Ville went to sleep, dreading the shadows and flashing back on the phone call from his mother. The memory of his first kiss wasn't enough to make him forget. He glanced at his clock. 2:57. Sighing, he sat up and quietly got dressed, grabbing his cigarettes and slipping out his window.

He winced as the raw flesh of his wrist banged on the windowsill. This has to stop. But a sardonic smile formed on his lips. But it never will. I'll never let it stop.

The boy who looked like a girl walked down the sidewalk, lighting a cigarette and ignoring the cold wind that bit at him. His thoughts flashed on the blue eyed boy he had kissed only hours before.

Who are you? Why are you doing this to me? I swore I'd never . . . People just hurt you, rip your heart out and leave you for dead. But . . . I want you. You can't be like that, can you?

A small sob sounded. "How many times can I be wrong?" Ville whispered, sinking onto the grass. I don't want to be wrong about you. I don't think I can take anymore. God couldn't have killed all the good people, could He?

Ville buried his head in his hands as he fought the tears in his eyes. But . . . I can't. If I'm with you, I'll just hurt you. I can't. But I'll hurt you if I leave.

Ville turned his head upward. "I hate You." he said. "Stupid fucking God." Life was so much easier when he pretended there was no higher power, when he could forget that God hated him so much He had made Ville look so pretty . . . just like a girl.

* * *

Bam woke up early the next day, getting dressed before he came out to eat. He tapped his foot impatiently as he looked between the clock and the door. He had expected Ville to show up early, expected them to walk to school together.

At eight 'o clock he convinced himself Ville must have been running late and grabbed his backpack and board before heading out the door. He looked for the green eyed boy in the hallway before hurrying to homeroom. He smiled when he saw Ville sitting at his desk.

"Hey." Bam said, turning a slight shade of pink when he sat down across from Ville.

"Hey." Ville's voice was detached, his eyes bloodshot, eyeliner barely visible, hair tousled.

"Are you okay?" Bam asked, his face concerned.

Ville yearned to lean forward and slap the emotion of the boy's face. He didn't like being looked at like a charity case. "Fine." he said in the same cold voice.

Bam's smile faltered. "Are you . . . are you mad at me?" he asked. Please don't be mad at me. Whatever I did . . . I didn't mean to. Ville, please don't do this. Don't shut me out, too.

"No."

"So talk to me." Bam said in an undertone, eyes glancing around the room.

Ville's green eyes grew unnaturally bright as his breath hitched. He had taken triple what he normally did when he shoved the pills into his mouth in the bathroom. "I-I . . . I don't deserve you." he stammered, voice barely audible. "You deserve better."

He stood up and left the room without another word, much to the shock of everyone watching. Mrs. Jameson looked confused for a minute before she walked to hallway. "Ville?" She glanced around and came back in to press the intercom button.

Bam could have sworn he heard her curse as he brushed past her, going to search for the green eyed boy. He walked through the hallways, ducking into the boys' restroom before hurrying down the stairs. He cursed when he saw Mr. Anderson, the principal, turning left instead of right.

Ville was leaning against the shop building, watching the elementary students at recess, when Bam found him. "I want that." he breathed, pointing a shaky finger at the playground.

"A swing set?" Bam asked, disbelief and confusion lacing his voice.

"I want to be that." Ville said. "I want to be a kid. I never got to be a kid." His voice cracked. "Everyone should get to be a kid."

"Ville . . . you're scaring me." Bam said softly.

Ville's eyes swam with tears. "Bammie, love . . . I'm scaring myself." Slowly his arms snaked around the other boy's neck and he buried his face in Bam's shoulder. He fought the tears, his breathing ragged. "If I stay with you . . . if you're with me, you'll never be like this again." He raised his face up. "You're already changing because of me." he whispered. "I can't believe I was this selfish."

"I want you." Bam said. "I don't care how much I have to change for you. I want you, Ville, like I've never wanted anything before. It's my life. I want to make the decision. I want you."

Ville bit his lip and shook his head. "No."

"Stop deciding what's good for me." Bam said, anger and fear rising in his voice. "If you leave . . . it's going to hurt me more than anything that could happen if we're together."

"You're not my boyfriend." Ville said suddenly. "That's not what I mean by together. We're not . . . we're not dating."

Bam looked as if he had been slapped. "What?"

"We're not dating." Ville repeated again. "I'm not going out with you, we're not going steady. I never should have kissed you." His voice wasn't laced with malice, as if he were trying to hurt Bam, but that was exactly what he was doing. "I should have walked out that door as soon as you kissed me."

"You . . . you didn't want to kiss me?" Bam asked, lips trembling as he fought tears. "You don't want me? But you said, you said--"

"I'm sorry." Ville whispered. "I never meant for this to happen. We were never . . . Why did you have to talk to me that first day?! Why did you have to screw everything up? This is your fault. You knew I was desperate, that I would do anything . . . what exactly were you planning on doing with me?"

"I hate you." Bam whispered as tears started to stream down his cheeks. "I fucking hate you, Ville Valo." And then he turned, running to a place he couldn't remember.

And Ville fell to the grass again, pulling his knees to his chest as he fought the dam of tears he would never be able to cry.