Status: Discontinued.
The Boy Who Looked Like a Girl
Part Seven
But Bam reached out and grabbed Ville's arm before he could move. "Why are you afraid of the dark?" he demanded.
Ville looked at him for a moment before quickly looking away. "Isn't everyone?" he asked, trying to blow it off. He tugged his arm away from Bam to fish in his pocket for his cigarettes.
"Monsters that live under the bed?" Bam raised an eyebrow, putting his hand over Ville's to cover up the smokes. "Mom'll have a shit fit."
They were walking down the sidewalk, Ville smoking and Bam picking at his fingernails. "You never told me your biggest fear." Ville said to the other boy, holding out his cigarette.
Bam took it, knowing the boy he was walking next to was as bad for him as the chemicals destroying his lungs. "You never told me why you're afraid of the dark." he pointed out, finish off the cigarette.
"You go, then I'll go." The way Ville said it was almost childlike, on the verge of making someone pinky promise. He lit another cigarette, walking backward in front of Bam.
"I don't know." Bam said, almost desperately. He needed to know why Ville was terrified of the dark. He just didn't know why he needed to know so damn bad. "I guess I'm afraid of being alone?"
"It's not so bad being alone." Ville said. "No one's going to fuck you over." He gave a laugh that made Bam think of straight jackets and padded walls.
"No one's there at all."
"There's always people when you're alone." Ville said. "That's how you know you're alone."
"I think you're on an afterbuzz from the club last night." Bam teased, only half joking. "And there's a street here, so turn around before you get hit by a car. And tell me why you're afraid of the dark." he added, almost aggressively.
"Don't have to." Ville said, now serious. He turned around, putting out his cigarette and lighting another. "Yours doesn't count. It was a copout."
"You can be a real dick sometimes, you know that?"
Ville just smiled. I'm so glad you're not smart enough to understand. They really mean it when they say ignorance is bliss.
"Where'd you go?" Bam asked suddenly.
Ville paused, confused. "What?"
"Last night at the club?" When Ville shrugged, Bam's eyes narrowed. He stepped in front of his friend, arms crossed angrily. "You playing these games is really starting to piss me off!" Bam snapped. "You bring up all this shit and then act like I'm the prick when I ask about it. All you do is hate people, smoke, and flirt."
Ville dropped his cigarette, malice in his cosmetically enhanced eyes. The voice he spoke with was calm, his hands clenched into fists were anything but. "And all you do is act like fucking Christ thinking you can solve all my god damn problems. You're a fifteen year old with a skateboard. Get the fuck over yourself." He lit a new cigarette and pressed it between Bam's lips. "Rot your lungs a little more, you stupid little boy."
The cigarette fell on the sidewalk as Ville left Bam standing next to a spray-painted stop sigh, blue eyes confused and hurt. His half articulated apology turning into a soft 'fuck' as it left his lips was as useless as the cigarette between his feet.
* * *
Ville shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground, not caring where his feet took him. He wanted to look back, make sure Bam was walking home, make sure he wasn't still standing there with that cigarette dangling from his lips.
Instead he just kept walking, eventually lighting another cigarette. At least where there was no one around there was no one to keep secrets from, no one watching him with suspicion. He was alone with his nightmares in this godless world, chainsmoking and painting his demons.
Now, he had to keep his silence. It hurt like hell screaming at Bam like that, screaming at a person who could actually tell there were secrets lying underneath the eyeliner and painted. Someone who didn't care that he looked like a girl. Someone who tried.
Ville couldn't remember the last time that had happened.
Or if it ever had.
* * *
Bam sat down on the curb, unrolling the cigarette Ville had pressed between his lips and watching the tobacco fall to the ground. "What the fuck is your wall?" Bam muttered, knowing Ville couldn't hear him. You won't even let me like you.
Sighing, he stood up, wiped his hands on his jeans, and walked toward his house. Doesn't it make you tired, hating the whole world? Why are so nice to me and then you turn around and scream at me? What's your secret, Ville Valo?
"Why do I care?" he whispered to himself.
He didn't know why Ville had disappeared in the club. He didn't know how Ville knew exactly what to do to get them into the club. He didn't know if Ville was gay, if Ville had fucked someone to get them free drinks, if he was shooting up in the bathroom. He didn't know anything about Ville.
Except that there was something to know. Something he hadn't found out yet. Something that made Ville's eyes get dark for no reason.
A monster that lived under Ville's bed.
* * *
Ville turned right, cringing at the sight of the Hyatt street sign. He hated that house, hated the Taylors, hated everything about that place. He wanted to hate his parents for sending him here, for giving up on him. They never told him not to wear eyeliner or to cut his hair, they never told him to quit smoking and to not curse in front of his brothers and sisters. They thought that giving him his freedom was what he needed.
They didn't know that it made him more of a prisoner than ever.
My body is my prison. Ville lit another cigarette. Boys aren't supposed to look like girls.
He was at the playground again, nearly in tears again, remembering a time when he was younger. But even then, when he was in primary school, he had been like this. Minus the cigarettes and cursing. No one could find out why he hated everyone, why he had no friends, why he lashed out violently, why he hated his teachers, why he yelled in Mass at the private Catholic school his parents had sent him to.
Ville sat down on a swing, letting his shoes drag across the pebbles that were supposed to break a child's fall. His head was spinning slightly from having smoked so many cigarettes in such a short amount of time. He only had three left in the pack and he wasn't looking forward to what he would have to do to get another.
He glanced across the street at the skatepark, flinching when Bam's eyes flitted through his mind. Why you? Why did I let you in?
* * *
"Bam, where's Ville?"
"How should I know?" Bam snapped. "I'm not his fucking babysitter." His cheeks flamed up as he made to storm to his room.
His mother intercepted him, unfortunately. "When Ville's with you, I'm in charge of knowing where he is. He's not an adult, Bam, and neither are you. Now where is he?"
"I don't know." Bam repeated.
"Well, you'd better get to knowing." April said, raising her eyebrows. "I don't care if you two got in a fight, I need to know where he is."
Bam glared at her, a million arguments running through his head. "Fine."
"Take your cell phone. And if I haven't heard from you in half an hour, you're grounded."
Bam rolled his eyes, huffing as he stomped to his room.
* * *
Ville sat on the bench, wishing his legs were shorter so he could swing them, act like a kid. At least he could pretend not to understand when he was a child, he could have an allusion of innocence.
I wish I could remember how to cry.
He stared at the scene in front of him, stared at the scene inside of him, at the scenes he wish he could meld. Throw paint onto a canvas and create a brand new hell. A hell he'd never been in before. I wish I didn't have to hurt you.
Ville had forgotten how to trust people, forgotten that there was such a thing. He flashed back to being thirteen and putting his full trust into that one person, those green eyes so like his own, the laugh that made him laugh. He didn't say those things to Bam to be cynical, he said them to be honest. Because that was all he knew, getting fucked over. Burning your heart and locking up the ashes was the only way to survive in a world like this one.
"Ville?"
The boy who looked like a girl turned, eyes widening slightly at the sight of the blue-eyed boy walking toward him. His _expression was the same as Ville's, half trying to look angry and half trying to apologize.
"Why did you come here?" Bam asked, looking around the skatepark.
Ville just sort of shrugged, slightly embarassed. I missed you. "Just ended up here." he said. He looked at Bam and bit his lip. "I--"
"Yeah."
"Okay?"
"Me, too."
"I know."
Ville nodded as Bam pulled out his cell phone to call his mom. How come nothing else was as easy as that had been? A ten second apology. Ville gave an idiotic smile at nothing, laughing as he rolled off the bench and onto the ground.
Bam gave his friend an amused look, laughing when Ville grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the grass. They sat there for a minute, Ville's legs tucked under him, Bam's sprawled to either side. Ville still loosely holding onto Bam's fingers, Bam smiling at the _expression on Ville's face.
"We'd better go." Ville said finally, letting go of his friend's hand.
Bam should have noticed the brightness of his friend's eyes, the uncharacteristic giggle, the flush in his cheeks. He wanted it to be real, to be honest. He saw what he wanted, saw what he knew was pretend.
"Yeah." Bam said. "Before my mom loses it."
* * *
"Just get a needle." Ville said. "I doubt I'm going to bleed to death." He held the shiny metal object in his hand as Bam looked at him warily.
"What if I hit a vein?"
"It's my freaking ear, Bam. There are no veins."
"Then how does it bleed?"
Ville rolled his eyes, standing up. "Fine, I'll do it. Just tell me where a needle is so I don't have to go back to the store and lift one of those."
"I'll do it." Bam said, sighing. He returned with a needle, which Ville held over the flame of his lighter for several seconds before handing it back to Bam. The younger boy hesitated for a second as he positioned the needle over the dot they had marked off a few minutes before. "Don't I need an apple or something?"
"That's just in the movies." Ville said. "Just shove it through and then I'll put in the earring. Bam, just--fuck! Jesus Christ, you didn't have to do it so hard!"
Ville was forcing the earring through the bleeding hole in his ear when April Margera started pounding on the locked door. "What the hell is going on in there?"
* * *
It clicked, like the lock on the door clicked after April left the room, seething. There were no more questions, no more looks of whether or not it was stupid. There were looks of panic, looks of fear, looks of suspicion, and looks of anger. But there was no more questioning whether or not it was real.
From the moment Bam forced the needle through Ville's earlobe their friendship was sealed, a pact that was sealed in the blood that dripped onto the shoulder of Ville's shirt, dated with the laughter they couldn't stop emitting after April scolded them for fifteen minutes.
* * *
Ville looked out the window of the bathroom, glancing at the clock on the wall. He felt so dirty, so guilty for doing this. He thought of the boy sleeping in the room next door, the woman who was treating him the same way she did her son.
He took it with water, wondering if there would ever be a day he could feel happy without the white pills.
Wondering what would happen when he ran out.
Ville looked at him for a moment before quickly looking away. "Isn't everyone?" he asked, trying to blow it off. He tugged his arm away from Bam to fish in his pocket for his cigarettes.
"Monsters that live under the bed?" Bam raised an eyebrow, putting his hand over Ville's to cover up the smokes. "Mom'll have a shit fit."
They were walking down the sidewalk, Ville smoking and Bam picking at his fingernails. "You never told me your biggest fear." Ville said to the other boy, holding out his cigarette.
Bam took it, knowing the boy he was walking next to was as bad for him as the chemicals destroying his lungs. "You never told me why you're afraid of the dark." he pointed out, finish off the cigarette.
"You go, then I'll go." The way Ville said it was almost childlike, on the verge of making someone pinky promise. He lit another cigarette, walking backward in front of Bam.
"I don't know." Bam said, almost desperately. He needed to know why Ville was terrified of the dark. He just didn't know why he needed to know so damn bad. "I guess I'm afraid of being alone?"
"It's not so bad being alone." Ville said. "No one's going to fuck you over." He gave a laugh that made Bam think of straight jackets and padded walls.
"No one's there at all."
"There's always people when you're alone." Ville said. "That's how you know you're alone."
"I think you're on an afterbuzz from the club last night." Bam teased, only half joking. "And there's a street here, so turn around before you get hit by a car. And tell me why you're afraid of the dark." he added, almost aggressively.
"Don't have to." Ville said, now serious. He turned around, putting out his cigarette and lighting another. "Yours doesn't count. It was a copout."
"You can be a real dick sometimes, you know that?"
Ville just smiled. I'm so glad you're not smart enough to understand. They really mean it when they say ignorance is bliss.
"Where'd you go?" Bam asked suddenly.
Ville paused, confused. "What?"
"Last night at the club?" When Ville shrugged, Bam's eyes narrowed. He stepped in front of his friend, arms crossed angrily. "You playing these games is really starting to piss me off!" Bam snapped. "You bring up all this shit and then act like I'm the prick when I ask about it. All you do is hate people, smoke, and flirt."
Ville dropped his cigarette, malice in his cosmetically enhanced eyes. The voice he spoke with was calm, his hands clenched into fists were anything but. "And all you do is act like fucking Christ thinking you can solve all my god damn problems. You're a fifteen year old with a skateboard. Get the fuck over yourself." He lit a new cigarette and pressed it between Bam's lips. "Rot your lungs a little more, you stupid little boy."
The cigarette fell on the sidewalk as Ville left Bam standing next to a spray-painted stop sigh, blue eyes confused and hurt. His half articulated apology turning into a soft 'fuck' as it left his lips was as useless as the cigarette between his feet.
* * *
Ville shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground, not caring where his feet took him. He wanted to look back, make sure Bam was walking home, make sure he wasn't still standing there with that cigarette dangling from his lips.
Instead he just kept walking, eventually lighting another cigarette. At least where there was no one around there was no one to keep secrets from, no one watching him with suspicion. He was alone with his nightmares in this godless world, chainsmoking and painting his demons.
Now, he had to keep his silence. It hurt like hell screaming at Bam like that, screaming at a person who could actually tell there were secrets lying underneath the eyeliner and painted. Someone who didn't care that he looked like a girl. Someone who tried.
Ville couldn't remember the last time that had happened.
Or if it ever had.
* * *
Bam sat down on the curb, unrolling the cigarette Ville had pressed between his lips and watching the tobacco fall to the ground. "What the fuck is your wall?" Bam muttered, knowing Ville couldn't hear him. You won't even let me like you.
Sighing, he stood up, wiped his hands on his jeans, and walked toward his house. Doesn't it make you tired, hating the whole world? Why are so nice to me and then you turn around and scream at me? What's your secret, Ville Valo?
"Why do I care?" he whispered to himself.
He didn't know why Ville had disappeared in the club. He didn't know how Ville knew exactly what to do to get them into the club. He didn't know if Ville was gay, if Ville had fucked someone to get them free drinks, if he was shooting up in the bathroom. He didn't know anything about Ville.
Except that there was something to know. Something he hadn't found out yet. Something that made Ville's eyes get dark for no reason.
A monster that lived under Ville's bed.
* * *
Ville turned right, cringing at the sight of the Hyatt street sign. He hated that house, hated the Taylors, hated everything about that place. He wanted to hate his parents for sending him here, for giving up on him. They never told him not to wear eyeliner or to cut his hair, they never told him to quit smoking and to not curse in front of his brothers and sisters. They thought that giving him his freedom was what he needed.
They didn't know that it made him more of a prisoner than ever.
My body is my prison. Ville lit another cigarette. Boys aren't supposed to look like girls.
He was at the playground again, nearly in tears again, remembering a time when he was younger. But even then, when he was in primary school, he had been like this. Minus the cigarettes and cursing. No one could find out why he hated everyone, why he had no friends, why he lashed out violently, why he hated his teachers, why he yelled in Mass at the private Catholic school his parents had sent him to.
Ville sat down on a swing, letting his shoes drag across the pebbles that were supposed to break a child's fall. His head was spinning slightly from having smoked so many cigarettes in such a short amount of time. He only had three left in the pack and he wasn't looking forward to what he would have to do to get another.
He glanced across the street at the skatepark, flinching when Bam's eyes flitted through his mind. Why you? Why did I let you in?
* * *
"Bam, where's Ville?"
"How should I know?" Bam snapped. "I'm not his fucking babysitter." His cheeks flamed up as he made to storm to his room.
His mother intercepted him, unfortunately. "When Ville's with you, I'm in charge of knowing where he is. He's not an adult, Bam, and neither are you. Now where is he?"
"I don't know." Bam repeated.
"Well, you'd better get to knowing." April said, raising her eyebrows. "I don't care if you two got in a fight, I need to know where he is."
Bam glared at her, a million arguments running through his head. "Fine."
"Take your cell phone. And if I haven't heard from you in half an hour, you're grounded."
Bam rolled his eyes, huffing as he stomped to his room.
* * *
Ville sat on the bench, wishing his legs were shorter so he could swing them, act like a kid. At least he could pretend not to understand when he was a child, he could have an allusion of innocence.
I wish I could remember how to cry.
He stared at the scene in front of him, stared at the scene inside of him, at the scenes he wish he could meld. Throw paint onto a canvas and create a brand new hell. A hell he'd never been in before. I wish I didn't have to hurt you.
Ville had forgotten how to trust people, forgotten that there was such a thing. He flashed back to being thirteen and putting his full trust into that one person, those green eyes so like his own, the laugh that made him laugh. He didn't say those things to Bam to be cynical, he said them to be honest. Because that was all he knew, getting fucked over. Burning your heart and locking up the ashes was the only way to survive in a world like this one.
"Ville?"
The boy who looked like a girl turned, eyes widening slightly at the sight of the blue-eyed boy walking toward him. His _expression was the same as Ville's, half trying to look angry and half trying to apologize.
"Why did you come here?" Bam asked, looking around the skatepark.
Ville just sort of shrugged, slightly embarassed. I missed you. "Just ended up here." he said. He looked at Bam and bit his lip. "I--"
"Yeah."
"Okay?"
"Me, too."
"I know."
Ville nodded as Bam pulled out his cell phone to call his mom. How come nothing else was as easy as that had been? A ten second apology. Ville gave an idiotic smile at nothing, laughing as he rolled off the bench and onto the ground.
Bam gave his friend an amused look, laughing when Ville grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the grass. They sat there for a minute, Ville's legs tucked under him, Bam's sprawled to either side. Ville still loosely holding onto Bam's fingers, Bam smiling at the _expression on Ville's face.
"We'd better go." Ville said finally, letting go of his friend's hand.
Bam should have noticed the brightness of his friend's eyes, the uncharacteristic giggle, the flush in his cheeks. He wanted it to be real, to be honest. He saw what he wanted, saw what he knew was pretend.
"Yeah." Bam said. "Before my mom loses it."
* * *
"Just get a needle." Ville said. "I doubt I'm going to bleed to death." He held the shiny metal object in his hand as Bam looked at him warily.
"What if I hit a vein?"
"It's my freaking ear, Bam. There are no veins."
"Then how does it bleed?"
Ville rolled his eyes, standing up. "Fine, I'll do it. Just tell me where a needle is so I don't have to go back to the store and lift one of those."
"I'll do it." Bam said, sighing. He returned with a needle, which Ville held over the flame of his lighter for several seconds before handing it back to Bam. The younger boy hesitated for a second as he positioned the needle over the dot they had marked off a few minutes before. "Don't I need an apple or something?"
"That's just in the movies." Ville said. "Just shove it through and then I'll put in the earring. Bam, just--fuck! Jesus Christ, you didn't have to do it so hard!"
Ville was forcing the earring through the bleeding hole in his ear when April Margera started pounding on the locked door. "What the hell is going on in there?"
* * *
It clicked, like the lock on the door clicked after April left the room, seething. There were no more questions, no more looks of whether or not it was stupid. There were looks of panic, looks of fear, looks of suspicion, and looks of anger. But there was no more questioning whether or not it was real.
From the moment Bam forced the needle through Ville's earlobe their friendship was sealed, a pact that was sealed in the blood that dripped onto the shoulder of Ville's shirt, dated with the laughter they couldn't stop emitting after April scolded them for fifteen minutes.
* * *
Ville looked out the window of the bathroom, glancing at the clock on the wall. He felt so dirty, so guilty for doing this. He thought of the boy sleeping in the room next door, the woman who was treating him the same way she did her son.
He took it with water, wondering if there would ever be a day he could feel happy without the white pills.
Wondering what would happen when he ran out.