Content warnings: see chapter 1, TW: This chapter features non-consensual sexual acts
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From across the street, Ville could already see-
Lights flashing, bodies moving, and then-
A sad little reflection, gaunt and pale like a corpse, all big, sad eyes and trembling lips.
Finally, he turned - away from the window, from himself.
Contemplated whether to brush his hair, then pulled up the shirt to inspect his ribs.
A strange habit. He just had to assure that nothing had changed, that his ribs were still prominent and his skin was pulled taut.
Downstairs, the scent of cigarettes wafted through the air, a worn woman on the couch.
Wondering - Should he say goodbye?
Nevermind. What did she care?
.
Somehow, whenever he walked into the empty home, it seemed to place some strange weight in his chest- inexplicable.
Across the street - the weather was so nice out tonight, soft and dreamy and inbetween, as if it didn't exist at all, - until he rung the doorbell, and just as the adolescent adjusted his belt, the door swung open to reveal Bam, leaning against the doorframe with that impish grin of his.
"Willa!" Then, suddenly, he was in Bam's arms, and it smelled like Bam, and everything on his mind was gone.
"Been waiting for you."
At that, the boy flashed Bam a crooked smile.
"Me too."
Bam tended to shake his head when he laughed, like Ville was some amusing, adorable thing.
"I'm glad."
Ville wasn't.
Already, he could hear voices and strobing lights that hurt his eyes and the smell of beer and something more.
Despite it, Ville stuck to Bam's side- gnawing at his lips as Bam talked and grinding his teeth when vomit nearly spilled onto his shoes.
How long had passed like that when Bam leaned close, voice slurred?
"Let's go somewhere, Willa."
The low voice sent shivers through his body, even as confusion overcame him.
Somewhere... To do what?
Then, he felt beer soak through his jeans, and Ville was nodding frantically.
"Okay."
Bam's hand tugged at his until the door shut behind them.
Bam's room looked different today, although Ville couldn't quite pinpoint whether it was the moonlight that spilled onto the walls or just the bottles and pills scattered about the bedside table.
A question, a confusion that lasted for just a moment on Ville's tongue before Bam was so close, hands on Ville and his lips crashing against the teen's and he didn't understand-
What...?
Sometimes, it felt almost as if he couldn't think with Bam around, especially when Bam was, like now, pushing at his body, sending sparks of pain through his lips.
He just didn't understand why Bam was... being like this.
"Bam, what-"
The words faded when he fell onto the bed, fumbling beneath the skater's heavy gaze.
"Take off your shirt."
There was a sinking feeling in his stomach, a trembling sensation in his body.
Ville felt his own arms wrap around his frame, his voice a whiny, frightened thing when it sounded.
.
"I don't want to." He turned his head.
"Please, Bammie."
The pair of hands on his shoulders stopped his attempts to rise, and when he finally dared to glance up-
It was as if some strange, unknown thing had taken hold of Bam's body, like this was some other Bam, whose smile was a cruel, terrifying thing and whose eyes were not endless summer skies but dark waters.
"You know, Willa..."
Ville pressed his eyes shut. This wasn't Bam. Bam didn't look at him like he... like he despised Ville.
He could feel hot breath against his face, and his stomach turned.
"Certain duties come with being mine."
As Bam's lips crashed against his, cold hands tearing at the fabric until Ville felt that appraising gaze raking over his exposed body, he could only whisper.
"I don't understand."
A pathetic, silent thing to which Bam didn't react.
Perhaps he hadn't heard - perhaps he just didn't care.
He felt calloused hands on him, heard those little whispers of praise - "God, you're so perfect" -, and he felt that distant, dimmed joy. A lie. He felt nothing. He felt cold and sick and disgusting.
Then, like an insiduous poison- he felt a warmth stir within his chest, felt it seep through his spine and into his stomach and-
Bam stopped, leaning back - A glimpse of hope, crushed at the sickening delight on Bam's face.
"Holy shit-"
Even as Ville pressed his legs together, body burning with shame and something more - something that made him want to die, that made him want to beg, Bam's hand slid down, and Ville felt his hips bucking up, and, right then and there-
he imagined his brain splattering against the ceiling in millions of tiny little pieces, imagined being reduced to some senseless shell of skin right there.
Bam was chuckling now, eyes lowered.
"You like this, Willa."
He shook his head,
"Wasn't really expecting that."
Ville didn't understand. He didn't understand anything.
His mind was empty as he stared at the sky blue ceiling, and was going to be sick.
Was this supposed to feel good? Was this what was supposed to happen?
Surely, Bam knew best.
He heard little noises, moans - it took a moment to realise that he was the one making them - that the he was the boy raising his hips, letting Bam undress him, whining Bam's name for another reason now.
This felt so good. Ville should have been happy.
"Look at you, Willa. You're doing so good."
Bam was talking, was stroking his skin and biting at his neck, and Ville couldn't even hear.
This didn't feel good. His stomach hurt and he tasted vomit in his throat.
So why was he thrashing and moving and begging for - what? He had no idea.
Why was he begging for Bam to stop, for Bam never to stop?
Then, suddenly- pain shot through him, sharp and bright, and it cut through everything.
The confusion, the haze, the thoughts.
And finally, there was just Bam - beautiful and bright above him, and he could feel Bam inside him - and as he pulled the teen closer, he knew now that something deep within him was fractured irrevocably, even if he couldn't name it.
Chapter 9 (Bonus)
Bam was moving now, thrusting into Ville's body again and again, and Ville saw stars, pushing back against the intrusion.
He didn't care anymore. Didn't care why Bam had hurt him, why Bam was looking at him like he was prey, yet touching him like a ragdoll, pulling and playing as he pleased, chuckling with childlike delight when he got a new reaction.
Maybe this had been Bam, all along.
What did Ville know? He didn't know anything. He saw that now.
Bam was staring at him now, hard. Disbelieving.
"You're crying."
Was he?
A calloused hand against his face - he leaned into it almost instinctively.
Bam's head was cocked.
"Why?"
There was no concern there - just clinical curiosity.
Ville turned his head as a choked sob escaped him.
Why was he crying? Why did he feel broken to his core?
"I thought you loved me."
Bam's voice was almost gentle, although not in a nice way. He sounded like a tired parent explaining something to a child who wouldn't listen.
"I do."
He took Ville's hand into his.
"That's why I'm doing this."
As if it was some logical conclusion.
When it sounded, Ville's voice was a choked sob.
"No you don't"
His hair whipped against his face.
"You- you hurt me. You-"
Ville's voice broke at the skater's narrowed eyes.
"I made you feel good."
A hand grasped Ville's neglected erection.
" 'Cause you're feeling real good right now, aren't you?"
Ville felt the snot on his face, felt the drool on his chin.
He was pathetic. He really was.
"No. No, I don't feel good."
Ville turned as his hands found their way onto Bam's chest. Barely pushing, just resting.
"You don't love me."
Ville was sobbing again, pushing at Bam's chest in that childish, naive way of his.
"You don't love me at all."
Then- he felt something snap.
He saw Bam's teeth clench, felt his grip tighten on Ville's wrists, and he watched with fear as an unnatural smile split Bam's face.
"You know what, Willa?"
Bam laughed, cold, all wrong.
"Keep crying."
Ville's eyes were wide, his mouth shut when Bam leaned in close.
He could smell the beer on his breath.
"I've been trying to make this nice for you, and you-"
Bam shook his head, grip tightening.
"This is what I get in return?"
The boy's jaw shifted beneath Bam's harsh touch.
"You're really something."
Say something. Say anything.
But he couldn't. Instead, he just stared as Bam continued.
"You think I was hurting you?"
Then, suddenly, painfully, Ville was flipped onto his stomach, face pressed into the pillow as the older teen grasped his hips.
There was no warning before Bam drove into him, no warning before he thrust into Ville roughly, his grip bruising.
He didn't care about Ville's whimpers of pain, his desperate thrashing.
Slowly, it dawned on Ville.
It made sense, now - Bam was taking what he wanted, and Ville -
Ville was nothing more to him than a device.
He was just something to use.
How long did it go on like that, Ville's body sore and his eyes heavy with tears, when, finally, Bam reached around, stroking Ville in time with his thrusts?
His vision went black, his body collapsing - finally, finally, that longing for release satisfied.
It took a moment until Bam groaned, hands gripping Ville's sensitive skin before there was just-
Emptiness.
Ville made a strange, exhausted noise at the loss - almost animalistic.
Bam fumbled for a moment, Ville felt the bed dip before a body lay next to his.
Ville didn't react when Bam took him into strong arms.
He didn't react when Bam kissed him, when Bam snuggled close like a child to its favourite toy.
He just watched Bam's breathing calm, just felt emptiness seep into his very bones as the words echoed in his mind.
