Disclaimer: nope…still not mine, never happened. Were you really expecting something else?
A/N: the lyrics are not mine; I have only translated them from Persian into English. It's not a beautiful, smooth translation at all but the song surprisingly fits the theme of this chapter. You can find the original lyrics in my profile.
A/N 2: my special thanks to my dear Soot, who if it wasn't for her review, this chapter wouldn't have been written.
Chapter 10: The Lump of Love
Tired of this old lump of love
It's hard to bear it in my voice
It's good that I'm content with your memories
I can let go of my grievances
It's hard for me to believe but I
Will go and won't ask anything of you
But know that wherever I go, after you
The lump of love will be the only thing remained of you
My lump won't break in my voice
God I want to cry a sea of tears
He didn't realize, the one who should have known
That more than life he's dearer to me still
Nothing is over with my leave
The lover won't fall out of love
Tell me if you've never been in love
Your lover won't be mad at you
The lump of love is still in my voice
I still don't ask anything of you
I loved you and from being in love
Your grief is the only thing I got
But I'm still in love with you
Didn't have a moment without pain
Even if it's been a long time since my leave
I'm still soaked in your love
Nothing is over with my leave
The lover won't fall out of love
Tell me if you've never been in love
Your lover won't be mad at you
The world was white; a blinding white that hurt his eyes and made his head swim. He felt like he was floating back and forth in an invisible torrent of flood, as every single cell in his body was pulling him in thousand different directions all at once. He couldn't find his feet. He felt sick. And he wanted it to stop; this spinning of the world around him, like it was trying to consume him; like it wanted him to become a permanent part of all the life he had once left behind.
But he didn't want it back, this colorless painting of his life, smudged with crimson blood at the corners.
But he couldn't fight it off.
There was an invisible force pulling him forward, but he didn't want to move.
And the whiteness kept spinning around…
The coldness seeped through the open windows and brushed past the left side of his cheek where he was facing them, and made him shiver. He wished he had taken warmer clothes with him, but he had no idea it was going to be such a cold summer. He couldn't ask the dark haired woman sitting in front of him to close the windows either. From the look of it, he was the only occupant in the room feeling cold.
He was always cold when he was in the company of that woman. She was the slap of a winter wind right to his face. She was the promise of a destructive storm about to turn his world into a pile of powder. She was the icy cold water pouring down mercilessly on his naked figure, soaking him, drowning him, killing him…and then spitting on his dead body.
She was Bam Margera's wife.
And around…
"Ville, what is it?"
What it was, he asked. As if he didn't know. But he did. How could he not? Didn't he always say he wore his heart on his sleeve? That he couldn't hide his feelings no matter what? Those shinning, expressive green eyes of his- he would always say- did not the ability to mislead. How could he claim that he didn't know what was with him, when he was the one that was causing him to be the way he was?
Bam was getting crueler to him, and Ville didn't know what he had done wrong to deserve it.
And around...
"Bam is such a sweetheart…"
Sweetheart. How many times had he called Bam sweetheart? And how many times had that handsome, youthful face lit up at hearing that?
Thousand times.
"He likes to pretend otherwise but he's a romantic at heart…"
Romantic. Bam called him romantic. That time when he had lit scented candles on the table as the two of them were having dinner after a tiresome day, he had called him a romantic and laughed at him. But after the dinner, he had kissed Ville's flushed cheek, whispering into his ear that he loved his romantic side. That it brought out his own romantic side as well whenever Ville showed his own.
Ville loved Bam's romantic side, too.
"Last night he bought me a giant bouquet of red roses. It almost came to my waist!"
Red roses. He had asked him what kind of flowers he liked the most. Ville had told him red roses, a wide grin spreading across his face. Bam had wriggled his brows cutely at that, saying red roses was such a girly kind of flower to like. Ville had flushed. Bam could make him feel embarrassed almost as easily as he made him hot and aroused. Bam had said he liked snapdragons.
Ville couldn't help giggling.
"Bam can make any girls happy. He can be such a gentleman at times it surprises you. He never forgets to open the car door for me or pull out a chair for me in a restaurant. He spoils me."
Spoiled. Bam had once called him spoiled. When Bam had flirted with one of the girls in the bar, and kissed her full on the lips right in front of Ville's wide eyes, Ville had excused himself and run off. When Bam had come to find him on the roof of the bar, shivering and miserable with tracks of tears on his face, he had called him spoiled. He acted as if he didn't know what had upset him so much. Later, when he had made him some coffee and brushed his hair out of his eyes, Ville forgave him.
How could he be upset with someone he loved more than he loved his own self? Especially when that certain someone smiled at him like he was in love with him, too.
And around…
Ville shivered uncontrollably as the rain slapped him in the face. His clothes were soaked, hair plastered down, teeth clattering. He hated the cold. He hated the rain. He hated to be still in love with someone who didn't give a damn.
Bam always remembered to offer Ville his own coat when he shivered like mad. He had forgotten this time.
"I can't believe it, man. I mean, wow, she's such a beautiful, sweet woman. What the fuck does she see in me?"
There was a time Ville was in love with Bam's smiles. It felt like ages now.
"Yeah, she's nice. But…" the words got stuck in his throat. Bam wasn't looking at him. He wasn't even aware of his presence.
He wouldn't shut up about Missy.
He looked helplessly in love. It made Ville want to die.
It made him want to kill; Missy or Bam, he couldn't decide. Perhaps both.
But he knew he wouldn't do it. He couldn't.
Too kind-hearted for his own good, Bam always told him.
And around…
"You love him, don't you?"
He should have been horrified or shocked in the least, but he wasn't. He just looked wearily at the face of a woman he wanted to chock to death, too exhausted to lie.
"I've loved him from the day one; much longer than you've known him."
She sipped her coffee, unfazed, but there was a warm understanding in her eyes that Ville knew better than trust.
"But he doesn't love you." She couldn't have said anything crueler than that. Her eyes were still warm, though; perhaps it was the color?
"Yes, I know. He married you after all." And he couldn't have said anything more pleasing to her. He hated the happiness shining in her eyes.
"Yes, yes, he did, didn't he?" her smile made him sick. Bam said she was beautiful, but to Ville she was repulsive. He wanted to retch.
"I know Bam isn't in love with you, but there's something about you…that is…attractive to him. I don't like the way he talks about you or looks at you. And I know you're still trying to seduce him. Don't."
And suddenly that warmness in her eyes caught fire.
She was jealous.
And he was hollowed.
And around…
"Ville, please!"
She was soaked in tears, standing alone in the doorframe. The white snowflakes on her dark hair seemed to be winking at him sinisterly. It was the first time Ville saw her this much distressed. It alarmed him.
"What's happened? Are you all right?"
She shook her head and all of a sudden, Ville found Missy's trembling form in his arms. She had never touched him before. Her wet cheek against his neck was uncomfortable. The movement of her lips on his exposed skin was unnerving. The feel of her breasts pressed against his chest was foreign.
He felt odd all over.
"It's Bam." She sobbed, still pressed to him, and Ville heard his heart drop.
"W-what? What about Bam? Is he ok?" the panic in his voice was palpable.
"I think he doesn't love me anymore."
Ville closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a sigh of relief. Bam was all right. It was all that mattered. He suddenly realized Missy was still too close to him for his comfort. He led her to sit on the couch. She seemed reluctant to leave his arms. It was…disturbing.
"Why would you say that?" Ville wasn't alarmed anymore. Missy had a tendency to overreact whenever Bam and his loyalty to her were concerned.
"I found…found this in his pocket." She hiccupped as she pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and held it in font of him. Her eyes were full of tears and an expression Ville didn't feel like interpreting. He took the paper from her and upon reading the first line, his heart froze.
It was something he had written for Bam the night of his wedding, depressed and completely wasted, all alone in his room.
But he had never given it to him.
How did he…?
"It's yours, isn't it?" if it wasn't for the tears, she would have looked accusing.
"Missy, listen…"
But she didn't.
"It's yours, isn't it? Isn't it?" she shouted in his face. She snatched the paper from his numb fingers and shook it in front of his eyes.
"It's your handwriting! I know it is! How dared you? After all we've been through… how fucking dared you?!?" her voice was trembling. Her whole body was. Ville was too cold to react.
"Dear Bam, I think I'm broken…" she was reading the paper, in her trembling voice.
Ville just sat there, motionless, as he tried so hard to hold back his own tears.
"…broken beyond repair. I feel numb. My frozen heart is clattering inside. I feel crushed under the feet of fate. I wanted to wish you a happy life. I wanted to be there in your wedding, be the best man you have asked me to be. But I couldn't. You called and asked me why. You were so angry with me. I told you I couldn't book a flight in time. I lied. I wasn't in Finland. I was in a bar in West Chester, drinking myself senseless. I was trying to drown myself in my misery. I was trying to either die or forget. I never told you how much I loved you. But you did. Then why was it that it was you who married somebody else and it was me burning in love with you? Why did you do that, sweetheart? Why did you have to go and break my heart? Why couldn't you love me enough? Why? Oh, but I know. Love's the funeral of hearts and an ode for cruelty. Funny how I knew this all along and yet, I let myself fall. I thought you would jump after me. But you went to save somebody else. Didn't you always say you'd save me if I ever needed to be saved? Didn't I always say I was walking on the edge of the cliff-wingless- and you said you'd be the wings for me? Why did you lie, Bam? Why did you stay if you wanted to leave so soon, and without me? Why didn't you become the wings for me? Did you even see my fall? I was in love with you, and you closed your eyes on me. I wanted you and you shut me out. You killed me and I don't know how a dead heart can still love. Bam, but I still love you. I love you so much. I want you back. I want you here with me, in my arms, in my heart and soul. I'm cold and broken. I'm shattered into pieces. I'm a mess. Darling, won't you come to fix me? Won't you be in love with me tonight? Oh, my Bammie, my unfaithful Bammie, what a cruel beauty you are. And how much still in love I am with your beauty."
And around…
"How did you find it?"
He wanted to shout but his voice failed him. He wanted to scream and pull at his hair. He wanted to hurt the person that kept hurting him so. But he couldn't do it. Bam was still too close to his heart. Hurting him felt like a crime. And Ville was too damn angelic for that.
"Ville, listen! Let me explain, alright?" Bam was pleading with him. He knew the power he had over every bit of his life and was too cruel not to take advantage of it.
"Just tell me why, Bam. Tell me why." He rasped. He wasn't sick, but he felt feverish. His voice wasn't the only thing he was losing. It was his whole life.
"I…I found it in that notebook with the black volume. I wasn't intending to find it, I swear! I just knocked my knee on the table, the book dropped and the paper fall out. I wasn't going to read it either but it had my name on it. I thought…I thought you were going to give it to me some day, so I just…"
Ville's head was throbbing in pain. Why did these things keep happening to him? What was his mortal sin? What was he burning in this hell of love and hate for?
Why was Bam so damn cruel?
And around…
"Ville, I think…I think I'm in love with you."
He was expecting to shock him with his news, but Ville wasn't shocked at hearing it. He knew. He always knew. It was Bam who hadn't been aware.
"But it's too late, Bammie." He couldn't meet those beautiful blue eyes. He was worn out.
"W-what? What do you mean? Don't you love me anymore?"
God he could do it. He could say no and make Bam suffer. He deserved it. God knew he deserved it. But how could he hurt him? How could he hurt anyone? He couldn't. He simply couldn't.
Sometimes he wondered if his innocence was his sin. Perhaps it was, if he was going to be hurt more and more because of it.
And around…
"Promise me!"
"Missy, what are you asking me? Do you even know what you're doing to me?"
He wasn't crying. No he wasn't crying. God damn it, he was not crying. Not before those eyes. Never before those eyes.
"Ville, please, I beg you! Promise me. Just fucking promise me you won't take him away from me!"
And he promised.
He promised to stop loving her husband. He promised to stop seeing him. He promised to cut himself off Bam Margera's life forever.
He promised to be dead.
And Ville's green eyes snapped open, to a world of faint colors and floating voices.
A world that never failed to hurt him beyond healing.
A world he had tried to run away from…but failed.
He just didn't know why he came alive when he wanted to be dead so bad.
Failure was bitter.
Failure was pain.
…Failure was him.