The Boy Who Looked Like a Girl

The Boy Who Looked Like a Girl
Part Five

Ville sat bolt upright in bed, a silent scream frozen on his lips. His hair was wet from perspiration and his green eyes stung from the sweat dripping in them. He glanced at the clock, which read 5:57. Biting his lip to fight the sounds rising in the back of his throat, the boy sat up, swinging around so his legs were hanging off the side of his bed.

Bryce had already left for work and Brenda was still sleep when Ville slipped into the bathroom, turning on the shower and stepping into the hot stream of water. He scrubbed at his skin, nearly to the point of bleeding. He winced as he rubbed at his wrists, refusing to look at the rawness of his pale flesh, disgusted by the marks he would have to cover with a jacket for at least a week.

Ville slipped back into the pants he had slept in before walking back his room, towel drying his hair as he shut the door. He threw on the first pair of skin tight jeans he found, along with a just-as-tight black shirt with a white ankh symbol on it. He put on his eyeliner and lipgloss before running mouse through his wavy, dark locks.

It was only half past seven when Ville left his house, making sure his jacket covered his wrists before lighting a cigarette. It only took him ten minutes to get to school and showing up half an hour early was not something any student in their right mind would do. And while Ville may not have been in his right mind, he knew he didn't want to step foot in his second hell a moment before he had to.

Hoping Bam would be awake, Ville turned onto West Washington, heading toward the blue house he was slowly starting to consider a safe haven.

He hesitated before raising his hand and knocking on the door.

"--the fuck?" Bam asked, opening the door. His hair was messed up and he was dressed only in a pair of boxers.

Ville blushed. "Sorry. I-I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Oh, shut up." Bam said, grabbing Ville's hand and pulling him into the house. "Quit apologizing, you pussy." Bam yawned. "You didn't wake me up anyway. I was eating. I'm just not used to people showing up at my house in the morning unless my mom got a call from the school."

Ville finally stopped holding his breath when Bam let go of his hand. Nervously, he tugged at the wrists of his jacket.

"You want something to eat?" Bam asked, as Ville followed him into the kitchen. When the older boy shook his head, Bam frowned. "You should. Mom's right. You get any skinnier and you will disappear."

"Be an interesting trick at carnivals." Ville said, smiling. "I just don't eat breakfast, Bam."

"Or lunch."

"You don't eat lunch either." Ville said indignantly, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

"School lunches suck." Bam raked a hand through his hair, sighing in surrender. "I've got to get dressed." he said, stifling a yawn. "Don't burn my house down, you Finnish freak." The boy sauntered down the hallway, running a hand through his messy hair.

Ville tugged at the sleeves of his jacket again, wandering into the living room. His eyes ran over the walls, the photographs. The posed portraits where it took hours to get a child ready and even longer to make sure they didn't screw up their clothes before they got to Sears. Then, spur of the moment pictures: snapshots at the beach, birthday parties, snow angels.

Ville blinked a few times, trying to forget the mahogany wood where his school picture hung every year, next to the picture of his mother holding him in the hospital. It was hard not to miss his parents, but it was easier if he forgot about them, tried to hate them for sending him here.

He couldn't.

* * *

The boy who looked like a girl was quiet, biting his lip in the darkness and clutching his arms to his chest, eyes closed. Why does it have to hurt so much?

His wrists were still raw from the night before. Why did he have to do it again so soon?

He emerged from the darkness, stumbling into the blinding light, clutching at his wrists dotted with blood. He wiped at his eyes with the palm of his hand, trying to push the tears back inside of himself.

It was a ten minute walk back to the school and he walked into the art room just as the bell rang. Ten minutes later he was outside, clutching a Nikon camera and a pass to take photographs.

Instead he was sitting in a swing on the playground, his feet dragging on the ground and he moved slowly back and forth. It was almost as if he were rocking himself the way a mother might rock a child. Only this wasn't soothing, it was like a roller coaster.

He closed his eyes to fight the tears as words echoed inside of his head.

* * *

"You want to get drunk tonight?" Ville asked Bam as they left Literature class.

Bam cocked an eyebrow. "You got a plan on getting the supplies for that?"

Ville grinned. "Here. After school. Ask them if they want to come." Bam didn't need to ask who 'they' were.

Ville walked down the stairs, still smiling. He didn't care at the moment if he made a complete ass out of himself in front of people he barely knew. He didn't care that he was going to catch hell for taking the Taylor's extra car out for a joyride. He just wanted to forget.

And there were only so many remedies you could use in a week.

Ville tugged down the wrists of his jacket once again as he entered the Art Room.

* * *

It was a whirlwind, one that sucked away your soul rather than your body. They were two blue eyes, eyes that made you dizzy if you looked at them too long, but you could never help it. Tears were blood spatters nobody noticed as long as you smiled until your lips cracked, bit your tongue until it bled to keep from screaming.

Ville angrily blotted out the entire scene with black paint, furious at himself for attracting too much attention. From behind him, Mrs. Henderson opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself from saying anything as Ville stormed over to the trashcan, destroying the evidence.

He was angry at himself for attracting the attention, but that anger seemed to be laughter compared to the fury he felt from adding those eyes to the center of the picture. Those two blue eyes that still sparkled when the owner smiled. Two blue eyes with an innocence Ville would never be able to understand.

* * *

"Dude, you've got paint on your face." Bam said, laughing. He pulled Ville over to the water fountain and wet his fingers, gently wiping at Ville's cheekbone. "You look like you're getting ready for football practice."

Ville was trying to breathe, trying not to flinch away from the calloused fingers dancing across his face. He smiled when Bam pulled away, grinned when Bam smiled as if he had just created a masterpiece. "Did you ask Raab and Ryan?" Ville asked. Suddenly he hoped Bam had, hoped they would come. Suddenly he wanted as many people to see him get hopelessly drunk and act like a normal person for fifteen minutes. Just to prove he could.

"Yeah." Bam said, leading Ville toward his locker so he could drop off his books. "But they got a detention for skipping class and writing 'Kelly is a big fat whore' on the mirrors in the girl's and guy's bathrooms upstairs. "You mind hanging around?"

Ville shook his head. "I've got to change anyway. And pick up the car. You coming?" He was already walking down the hallway.

Bam hurried after him. "Car? Where exactly are we going, Finland?"

Ville cocked an eyebrow. "That'd take a bit more than a car, Bam."

"Sorry." Bam said. "I was calling you 'Finland'. That's what Raab's been calling you. So, were are we going?"

"What's your curfew?" Ville asked, as they walked outside.

"One on the weekend." Bam said. "But I can usually get away with later. Why?"

"We're going to a club." Ville said, handing over his cigarette so Bam could take a drag.

"I hate to break it to you," Bam said, "but there aren't any clubs in this town."

Ville laughed. "No shit? I thought there was one between the gas station and the church." He took his cigarette back. "We're going to Philadelphia."

"You got a fake ID?" Bam asked.

"I've got it covered." Ville assured him.

* * *

"You still haven't said how the fuck we're getting into this place." Raab said from the backseat as Ville turned off the car.

"Don't worry about it." Ville said, turning the rearview mirror to face him. He swiped on some lipgloss, extra eyeliner, and some mascara. "I told you I'd take care of it."

"There was parking at the club." Bam said. "Why'd we have to park two blocks away?"

"Quit whining." Ville said, returning the mirror to it's normal position and opening the car door. "We had to park two blocks away because this car is a piece of shit."

"And why does that matter?"

Ville just smiled as they walked down the sidewalk. He continued to play with his hair as they walked toward the club, checking his reflection in the windows of the stores they passed.

They were on the sidewalk opposite the club when Ryan went to cross the street, stopping when Ville put out his arm and shook his head. "Give me a minute." It took two before the doorman glanced across the street, moving to turn away until Ville began to cross the street, eyes half hidden by his cosmetically enhanced eyelashes.

A turn of his head before meeting the eyes of the man across from him again, his lips parted slightly. Barely visible smile, breathy 'hello'.

On occasion, Ville's feminine looks worked to his advantage.

* * *

"That took three fucking seconds!" Bam half yelled, throwing his arms around Ville's neck and kissing his friend's cheek. "I'm seriously in love with you, Ville Valo."

The older boy just smiled.

"You think if I put on some lipstick they'd sell me beer in town?" Raab asked, grinning.

"You've got to look good to start with." Ryan told him, laughing.

Bam was still staring at Ville as if he were a god. "C'mon. I'll get you a beer."

Ville just laughed, reaching out and ruffling his friend's hair. "Fuck beer. Besides," Ville pointed to a blonde serving at the bar, "all the drinks are on him."

"How you manage that?" Ryan asked.

"I've been in here a few times." Ville said. He touched Bam on the arm. "Give me my cigarettes." He had given them to the brunette in the car, saying they wouldn't fit in his pocket. And considering how tight the leather fit to his skin, it wasn't a lie. "What time do we need to leave?" he asked before the others went off in separate directions.

"Doesn't matter." Bam said. "They," he pointed at Raab and Ryan, "said they were crashing at my place and I told mom I was crashing at yours."

Ville opened his mouth to ask what was going to happen when they all showed up at their houses in the early hours of the morning, but just lit his cigarette instead. Fuck it. We'll worry about it later.

* * *

It was two hours later and Bam was in a panic. He'd barely seen Ville since they split up at eleven and each time he had, his friend looked like he was going to kill either himself or someone else. Then he would disappear amongst the lustful eyes of the others in the club.

Now he couldn't find Ville at all. He made his way to the bar, hoping a drink would get rid of the sick feeling in his sinking stomach.