BEWARE. I got this from my previous community. They liked to think Bam was gay. I just thought of him as friends with Ville, but this particular style of writing was floating around in my mind for the past week, and I thought of a cool plot for it, and *poof!* Reminiscence was born.
Rating- PG-13, I guess, for an itty bitty use of language.
Summary- Bam's feelings about his whole life walking out the door.
Disclaimer- So untrue, the whole thing. Yup.
It's strange, how some simple pictures could have so much meaning. I mean, when all you think about is his face, then why need a picture to remind yourself? You already know what he looks like. You remember. You remember the fights, the wine bottle, the car keys- and then it all comes back to you. He's gone. And he took them with him. He claimed he wouldn't care if you died, but there's a small, puny feeling in the back of your mind that says he lied. Now, if you were to ask one of his band mates if he lied, they'd say, " Ville? He's like George Washington. He couldn't tell a lie." But, deep inside, you knew. He did care.
Anyways, back to the pictures. When you look at a picture of him, you see a sweet, innocent being. Not true. You haven't seen what I've seen. I've seen the mean, old monster that lives inside us all. But Ville has been able to bottle it up and keep it hidden from us until that day. The day he left.
All these pictures used to mean nothing to me. All they did was represent the times we shared. Which, while Ville was here, it didn't seem like anything, since everything I did with him was special. Magical, almost. But, now that he's out of my reach, these pictures are all I have, besides a big, empty house. There's nothing left for me here. Sure, my friends call, and try to come back, but I lock them out. They sided with him, and that is unforgivable. From now on, whenever I look at them, I'll remember that day.
I remember this picture. We went to Mardi Gras, with Tony Hawk. Ville wasn't there, he was away on a tour. Ryan had to fly a plane to meet us there. Those were the fun times. There's nothing better than knowing you have your friends with you. But now, my friends, are with him. They went with him when he left, the drunk bastard. Which is odd, since I've never seen Ville drunk before. And I'll probably never see him again.
Oh, this picture was fun. We went to Helinski for one of Ville's concerts, and when we got there, the first song they played was, "Happy Birthday Bam". Ville let us sit on the stage, and watch the crowd scream for my Ville. My Ville. That has kind of an echo-ey feel to it. There's nothing behind it anymore, which I think is the reason. I wonder if he still thinks about me, the same way I think about him. Wishing for him to come back. Wanting to throw my arms around him, and apologize for being a complete ass all these years. Apologize for taking advantage of him, and for not being there for him. A rock would be a better friend than me.
Jess comes often, just to see how I'm holding up. I've been the same wreck for the past three months, when Ville left. I tell Jess there's no point in even coming. He doesn't care, though. He just smiles, and says he's a spy for the parents. I laugh, just to show him there's still hope for me. If he'd just bring Ville with him. Convince Ville, somehow, that I'll die without him. But, he said he didn't care. He wanted me to die, and feel the pain I've brought him all these years. And somehow, he's managed to move on, whereas I'm still in the dust, remembering. Thinking. Wishing.
So, Ville, if you ever read this, I just want you to know- someday, I'll move on. I'll get over you. Someday.