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Eros vs Thanatos: Whoever wins... We lose	By : AnkhesenpaatenRa Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > HIM Views: 1899 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the HIM band or any personalities mentioned personally, and I do not profit from these writings.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Ville was rather dumb.
As a teen.
He was dumb in one particular sense.
Yes, exactly, in that one.
By the time his classmates were going out, falling in love, discussing the girls in their class and the high schoolers, and some of them were even having their first sexual experiences, Ville was still spending most of his time hanging out with Linde and Mige in the basement of Mige’s house.
Mige wasn’t asking him why he didn’t have a girlfriend. Mige didn’t have one either, although he was two years his senior. Mige was a fair, hairy, chubby and charismatic dude, who knew Lovecraft by heart. Mige’s mom used to tell him: “Mikko, you’ll never find yourself a girl, unless you stop reading that Lovecraft.”
‘And what is the connection?’ Mige would ask her resentfully.
‘Because what he writes is pure Madness and Satanism! I’ve tried to read some, and it is horrible…’
‘Where does the madness leave off and reality begins?’ Mige meekly recited the words of his favorite author. Ville was standing next to him in the doorway; he came round after school, because he and Mige planned to go to the music store in the downtown for some window-shopping. Mige was supposed to take his mom’s car. Ville didn’t want to witness their conversation about Mige’s personal life, he just happened to be there. And he felt rather uncomfortable.
‘In that very book of yours,’ Mige’s mom said. ‘Right on the first page.’
‘Mom, that book contains the ultimate truth. The most merciful thing in the world is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents…’
‘Oh dear God. Cut it off.’
‘…We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far,’ Ville continued the phrase.
‘See, mom, Ville understands me,’ Mige said.
‘Unless your Ville plans to become the first man to give birth, that doesn’t take me any closer to having grandchildren, does it?’
Ville timidly hid his head in his shoulders and opened his eyes wide:
‘Why me? I’m just waiting here for Mikko, we wanted to go to the store. To the music store.’
‘What’s the point for you to go there? You don’t even have the money to buy anything.’
‘To have a look,’ Mige said expressively.
‘To have a look,’ Ville nodded just as expressively.
‘Didn’t you do that last week?’
‘Mom, you just don’t understand.’
‘No, I do not!’
‘I don’t get why women have to make so much fuss over their children?’ Mikko muttered at the Creation, puffing, while putting on his shoes. The Creation remained silent, his mother, however, did reply:
‘Are you seriously asking me that question? You. My Son. Asking that from your Mother.’
‘Mige, it seems like our logic has just suffered a crushing defeat in this ideological conflict,’ Ville subtly and tenderly drove his leg under his friend’s knee from behind, so that Mige nearly fell.
‘Stop fucking doing that, asshole!’
‘MIGE!!!’
‘Whoops,’ Ville giggled.
‘Get out of here. Both of you. Now!’ Mige’s mother gave up on her attempts to pass some wisdom on her offspring.
‘Mom, can I take the car?’ Mige asked swiftly.
There were some other guys with whom Ville was hanging out, apart from Mige and Linde. With some of them, he shared the mutual interest for rap music and skateboarding, as he was pretty good with the board at the time. And with others it was the love for reggae and the Rastafarian sacrament that smelled like a herbal cough syrup. There was no time for off-topic conversations with the former ones, and the latter ones didn’t bother talking in general. They were listening to reggae and smoking weed. There is no place for jibber jabber when you’re smoking reggae and listening to weed. Or was it the other way around?
He didn’t get beaten up too often. Ville had dreadlocks and was wearing a Black Sabbath t-shirt with wide rapper pants. Which means, he usually had enough time to do a runner, while his potential adversaries stood there dazed and confused, trying to figure out for which one of his wrong stances they wanted to beat the crap out of him. He was doing judo several times a week though, just in case. He even started to practice some of the techniques on his younger brother, but the slyness that run in the family made the little ego-centric fucker pick up kickboxing, and the more trophies he brought home from all kinds of competitions, the less Ville's desire to practice his skills on the family members grew.
And nevertheless, the green belt in judo was definitely a good argument in Ville's school quarrels.
And Linde… He and Linde didn’t talk to each other in general. Not that there was some tension between them, no. They were watching the same movies, and judging by the old porn magazines that had the same pages glued together, they were fapping to the same chicks. Ville used to sneak out those outdated magazines from his dad’s shop, so they always had a few at their rehearsal place. They were listening to the same kind of music and Linde quickly learned to copy any of their favorite riffs by ear. Perhaps, Linde simply couldn’t speak. Or, rather, he could, but he felt no need to. People at school picked on him for that, but Ville would always get into fights to intercede for him, because Linde was his friend and no one had the right to even touch him with their finger.
In such situations Linde, who was usually quiet and timid, confirmed the old saying about still waters running deep, because in a critical moment he would go berserk, crushing everything around him and throwing himself at the attackers with some piece of a chair in his arms, threatening to cause some serious injuries. In the end, everyone got tired of that and the bullies left them alone, because it wasn't funny at all.
And still, Ville didn’t have a girlfriend.
Well, he did meet someone at some party; he even courted her for the sake of decency, it seemed right, because everyone else was doing the same thing. He invited her to dance with him at the school disco night, and even kissed her. With tongue even. He didn’t quite understand why exactly he did that, but he hoped that he looked cool.
But even that wasn’t the worst part.
The worst part about his lack of experience was the fact that he missed the moment when he started to care about one of his friends a bit too much. Much more than he should have allowed himself to. He didn’t notice how and when it happened. Or rather, it was too late to do anything about it by the time he noticed it. He would have been more careful, if he had given it a thought in advance. But he hadn’t.
It was a late spring. Which is quite symptomatic per se.
The days were long and the weather was warm. They had a shitload of free time, no money to spend, nowhere to go to and nothing to do. Mige’s mother came home after a work shift and kicked them out of the basement because she wanted to get some sleep and their “boom-bang” was, as she had put it, driving her nuts. It was Linde’s turn to do the homework. He and Ville were classmates and considered the idea of doing their homework each day individually a waste of time, so they did it in turns instead. That day it was Linde’s turn.
Well, after all, he and Mige had their river.
And one joint to share, but a fucking strong one.
Who knows whether it was to blame on the joint, or on the critical lack of the grey matter in his brain, but he asked Mige without further ado:
‘Mize…’
‘What.’
‘Do you dig french-kissing?’
‘Ville, you aren’t retarded, are you?’
‘I could be, actually,’ Ville said. ‘We can’t be sure. Did I go through a test?’
‘How old are ya, boy?’
‘I will be sixteen years old this year. If I will be lucky enough. Y`know, this saying has always seemed too unreasonably optimistic to me.’
‘Fair enough,’ Mige said.
‘So, do you?’
‘I do what?’ Mige wondered. The heady smell of weed was intoxicating their mind.
Ville took a draw and gave the joint to Mige.
‘I mean, I've spent so much time thinking about it… dreaming… about it… and… it turned out… kinda crappy. And I still don’t get what’s the point of it. Well, I guess I truly am an idiot after all.’
Ville fell silent, looking at the running waters of the Vantaanjoki River.
‘Maybe you did something wrong?’ Mige asked him.
‘How on earth do I know?’ Ville wondered.
‘Hold it for a sec,’ Mige said seriously, Ville grabbed the joint with his left hand.
Mige turned side-ways to him and ran his wide tongue flatly over Ville's mouth. Ville gasped and took him inside. Somehow, this time around Ville instantly got the fucking gist of the whole thing. He also remembered the time when he had been jerking off in his bed as usual, and then by a strange twist of fancy imagined himself cumming on Mige's fair hairy belly. And it had given such a main road to the jet of his potential genetic material, that he even felt rather self-conscious about it for a long time. He never thought that a hairy male stomach could turn him on so much. He had bashfully forgotten about that episode and he didn't remember it until Mige's tongue awkwardly touched his mouth.
Ville wrapped his arms around Mige's head, opening his mouth to him. Sucking his tongue and feeling the sensation of someone else's body splitting his own body down into atoms and then assembling it back into order. For some reason, at that very moment, he understood what that fucking French kiss was all about. He clang to Mige and for about a second he was happy.
For about one, two, five or ten seconds.
Sure enough, his prick joyfully hardened in response. Ville clasped Mige's head harder, snuggling up to him. He felt the scent of his skin and his hair, he felt the heat of his body, and it felt a lot like death... or a lot like life? He couldn't answer that question. The slow warm movement of Mige's tongue felt as if he licked him right into the... um... well, let's say... the heart.
'Are you gay or something?' Mige withdrew himself from Ville in surprise. Carefully, yet persistently pushing him away.
What a twist.
Ville flushed out of terror and shame, his brain got paralyzed by the fact that he couldn't do or say a thing. Frankly speaking, it hadn't appeared to him for a moment that Mige understood him in the most literal sense. It hadn't appeared to him that Mige would kiss him, if he didn't want to do so.
'Err... Me... I... Ehh...' Ville mumbled and sat up quickly, pulling his knees to his chin and hoping against hope that Mige wouldn't notice the drastic change in his bikini line, so to speak. 'No. I thought you were.'
'Haha,' Mige said. 'Wanna take a drag?'
'Nah, I'm good,' Ville said.
It would be stupid and even cowardly to deny anything or try to make amends. He was sure that Mige understood everything. He suddenly felt like it was the end of everything. The end of his life even. Well, maybe not "the end of his life", that would be too radical, but soon enough he told Mige that he had to meet someone and quietly made his escape, pondering over his fate of a loser. Mige tactfully allowed him to walk away, making his attitude towards the situation even clearer. Tactfully pretending that nothing had happened.
The nasty thing was that he had to meet Mikko the next day. It was a shitty perspective by itself, but it would become even shittier, if he pussed out after what had happened. So now, after taking a headlong dive into a gutter of shame, he had to keep a happy face and smile like it was nothing. Fuck, alright then, in such case nothing had happened indeed. Oh, did anything happen? He pressed the doorbell.
Mikko's mother opened the door.
'Hullo, ma-am' Ville said. 'Could you call Mikko?'
‘Sure, Ville my dear. HEY, MIKKO!’ She called across the corridor. ‘How are things with your conjoined studies of Lovecraft?’ She asked him affably.
It was simply impossible to put into three words all the things that ran through Ville's mind in terms of that question. Therefore, he gave Mikko’s mom a Roland for her Oliver:
“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.”
‘Fhtang?’ She asked him unsure.
‘Fhtagn,’ Ville corrected her tactfully.
‘I see you’ve made significant progress since the last week, young man,’ Mige’s mom said. Sure enough, there was a fair share of sarcasm in her voice as she said that.
‘MOM, YOU CALLED?’
‘I didn`t. It was Cthulhu. Fhtagn,’ said Mrs Paananen, stepping away from the door.
‘Holy Cow! What have you done to my mother, you bastard?’ Mige asked him gaily.
‘Heh,’ Ville said gloomily, turning around and skipping down the stairs.
‘So, where do we go?’ Mige followed him.
‘Wherever. I don’t give a fuck.’
‘Dude, what's wrong? You seem fucked up.'
‘No more than usual.’
‘Well yeah, dude, "fucked up" is your normal state. But today you’re kinda twisted. Twistedly fucked up.’
‘Piss off,’ Ville said.
'WHY THE HELL YOU'RE BEING SUCH A SISSY?' Mige resented at the last step of the stairs, and at that very step, Ville's fist met his jaw.
Mige couldn't believe it for a second, he didn't understand why the stars flashed before his eyes, Ville punched him right in the face. Mige caught him at the door, twisted his arm and quietly drove him face forward into the wall. No, he didn't shove him against the wall, he just pressed him against it, he was bigger, it wasn't hard for him to do.
'What the fuck, Valo?' He asked him in a low voice. In a very low voice. Which usually meant that Mige was infuriated as the Satan himself. Truth be told, Ville even got a little scared.
'Shit,' Ville blurted out, all of a sudden it started to dawn on him that he had done something wrong.
'You don't punch your friends in the face,' Mige said.
'My bad,' Ville said. 'Punch me.'
Mige silently pushed his fist into Ville's chin. He did it as an educational measure rather than to hurt him, but Ville reeled back anyway. Despite the sharp sting of fury and resentment, which automatically rushed through him, he gritted his teeth and managed to keep himself in check.
'Friends?' Mige asked him.
'Friends,' said Ville.
That was almost the end of their conversation for that day. They reached the rehearsal place in silence, went through the songs without exchanging a word. When it started to get dark, Ville decided to get going. Oddly, Mige said that he would walk him home.
Ville shrugged, but didn't dare to object. It was better still to have a company, rather than walk home alone; they even had a little chat on the way back. They mostly discussed the rehearsal. But still.
'Well... See you later, alligator… Bye-bye for now,' Ville said and turned around to open the door.
'Ville,' Mige called him.
'What?'
'Wait.'
'WHAT.'
'Wait, what!'
Mige approached Ville from behind and turned him around sharply to see his face.
'Buddy, I must've hurt you with my words, somehow,' he whispered. 'I didn't mean to.'
Ville trustingly hid his mug in Mige's shoulder. He didn't know what he was thinking or feeling about it. By that point, he knew nothing at all. He simply hid his mug in Mige's shoulder, while the guy was slowly stroking his hair. Part of him wanted to take an offense, but then he wouldn't be able to stand there with his head buried in Mige's shoulder. And again, he liked the fact that Mige was apologizing to him and stroking his hair.
'Faggots-maggots,' a painfully familiar voice announced voluptuously from behind Ville's back in an ecstatically merry and sugary manner. The voice could belong to only one person in the whole Universe.
'Jesse!'
'I'm taking out the garbage for you for two days in a row,' Jesse said. He really was standing in the doorway with a garbage bag. A diminutive, tow-haired and long-nosed kid, dressed in a sleeveless shirt and shorts that were going all the way down to his knees. 'If you don’t take it out for me tomorrow, I'll tell our daddy that you've been getting all lovey-dovey with Mizee.'
'What a douche,' Ville said, reluctantly breaking his embrace with Mige.
'Takes one to know one,' said Jesse, dragging the bag after him. 'I'm toiling here for you like a galley slave, you could actually thank me sometime for a change.'
'That's the burden of a junior for ya,' Ville said. 'It's like you've got the raw end of the stick, you know. Deal with it.'
'Imma sell you o-o-o-out,' Jesse drawled from around the corner.
'I'll solve six math problems for you.'
'You demon!'
'Is that a "no"?'
'Seven.'
'The trash is on you for the rest of the week.'
'I sense a catch in this agreement, but I'm too young to prove it...' Giggled Jesse, dragging the plastic bag along the ground to the trash container.
Shortly thereafter, Mige was conscripted into the armed forces. They didn't take Ville because of his asthma. It was around that time that he had to spend about two weeks in hospital with a terrible flare-up, because he thought that he knew better than following doctors' prescriptions. Moreover, he excluded the control medications from his diet. Medications are for pussies! In the end, he got hospitalized in a critical condition.
Linde dodged the draft by pretending to be mentally unstable. He didn't have to try too hard, he was just being his usual self. Cryptically enough, Mige was welcomed to do the military service with open arms, which left Ville and Linde quietly wondering whether their fatherland was desperately lacking on conscripts that year.
Sure thing, they got so loaded on Koskenkorva at Mige's sending-off that Ville could barely walk, he was nearly crawling on his fours when he came back home. Well, he fell at least a couple of times on the stairs and even puked on each floor on his way to make the picture complete.
They swore like two fiancées to wait for Mige to come back from the army and don't make any decisions regarding that band, which the three of them had together (and which had no name yet) without him.
They were preserving their celibacy as well as they could.
They spent two weeks to write down the lyrics of Chris Isaak's song, and then three more weeks to record all the instrumental parts. Ville sang and played drums on that record, and Linde poured out his soul on guitar and bass. They were pretty happy with the result, but they wanted to show it to Mige prior to releasing it into the world. Without his approval, it all seemed like a child's play to them.
Speaking of celibacy.
It was around that time that Ville met Hiili.
Well, in fact, they already knew each other. Or rather, they had seen each other at some gig about a year ago, but they didn't really hang out together, because there was Mige and... Well, simply because they didn't. And this time Ville felt really out of place, so Hiili, who opportunely said the magic words "Fancy some beer to go?" appeared next to him just at the right time.
'We've met here at that party, remember?' He said. 'I'm Hiili Hiilesmaa.'
'And I am Ville Valo,' Ville said. In all fairness, he didn't remember the party Hiili was talking about, but he had no reason to suspect that his interlocutor had something bad in intention. If he says that they've met, then they must have really done so. Probably. May be.
'I have no money for beer,' he said. 'And I am sixteen years old.'
'Which means you don't drink?'
'Which means I’d die for beer, but no one wants to take my life,' Ville put things straight.
'I see your point,' Hiili said and walked away only to come back a few moments later with four glasses of beer, which immediately proved him to be an incredibly appealing human being in Ville's eyes... For the time being at least.
'Are you a bass player?' Hiili asked him.
Ville shrugged, sipping eagerly on the elixir of the blessed. Welcome to the world of show business for a newcomer. Sometimes, maybe once a month, you get an occasional chance to enjoy a free beer in exchange for all your blood, sweat and tears.
'I've never seen such a young dude playing a six-string bass,' Hiili poured a portion of soft sawder into his ears. The beer was dissolving in Ville's stomach, giving him a slight sensation of weightlessness, so he didn't notice the flattery. 'That's why you caught my eye that night,' Hiili continued.
'I can play different instruments,' Ville said. 'But I'm best at playing bass and drums.'
For some reason, he felt that it would be somehow too presumptuous and lame to admit that he was a singer in the band that he, Mige and Linde had together. 'I play in a several bands,' he said.
A half an hour and three glasses of beer later, he coyly admitted with a blush that he was actually singing a little in one of those bands. He also said that he was waiting for his friend to come back from the national service and say whether he likes whatever they had recorded or not. And if he does, then maybe he would like to show that recording to someone.
'A friend?' Hiili asked him.
'A friend,' Ville said.
Long story short, Ville allowed Hiili to take him.
Into his mouth.
Above all.
It was a very strange thing.
Everything was strange. They were chatting, Hiili struck Ville by his knowledge in music, well, in all the NON metal music. Techno, eighties bands, synth-pop and so on... He was hellishly good at synth-pop. Ville liked it. He discovered the bands like Duran Duran and Depeche Mode... It was worth it. It was worth the time they spent together. They were listening to some rare amateur recordings of some unknown bands and finding something interesting where no sane person ever would. They were spending hours, eagerly watching videos from some old live concerts, and generally doing all the stupid things, which the crazy melomaniacs are supposed to do.
Ville became a regular guest at his house. They even picked up some chicks that night and invited them to listen to Depeche Mode and Duran Duran. It was only some time later that Ville came to realize that those chicks had been just a part of Hiili's plan. At the time, he really thought that Hiili got the chicks for both of them. Truth be told, it did scare him a little, but he showed no sign of it. It has to be said that Ville to his credit didn't object too much when the company of the girls transformed into a blowjob. He was the one receiving it.
In all fairness, he was in no position to raise an objection in case someone was willing to give his willy some oral caress. Or rather, he would like to see an idiot, who would agree to...
And now there he was, the idiot, and it turned out to be such an enchanting experience. Well, no girl would blow him, he knew that for sure, he wouldn't even know how to ask. And his new friend was blowing him. He was blowing him sensually and assiduously, licking and smacking his lips, like in gay porn.
Well, Ville had seen that too.
He just couldn't understand whether he liked it or not. Hiili was diligently smacking his lips, and as Ville looked at his head going up and down, he knew that there was no way he would ever want to fuck Hiili. Although all that sloshing and smacking was rather exciting.
As a matter of fact, at the very moment when Hiili occupied his crotch, Ville was pondering over one particularly big issue, which rarely gets the deserved attention in big literature, despite being quite prominent in our real life. Ville really wanted someone to blow him. So he would know what it is and how it feels. But the second someone started to blow him, Ville knew for sure that more than anything in this world he would like to have one particular other person in place of that someone. Not that the fair-haired man was that bad at what he was doing. Well, Ville didn't know much about it, but by the appearance of it, everything looked like Hiili wasn't bad at all. Ville was just a little bit disappointed, because that kiss with Mige, which almost made him cum into his pants, impressed him a thousand times more.
It would be very rude of him to hurt the feelings of the person, who was standing on his knees before him, pretending to be a gay-porn-star of sorts, so Ville picked his nose thoughtfully. Then he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the physical sensations. His dick was hard though. Of course it was. In those days Ville was sporting a hard on almost on a daily basis. But Ville didn't notice any significant change in the internal dynamics of its state. He tried to think of something else, afraid to go soft on Hiili. He didn't want to look like an awkward goofball in his eyes. Ville clasped his hand around the base of his cock, hoping that the familiar touch would work as it usually did when he was touching himself.
And soon enough, he grew limp.
Either the persistence of the individual worked, or it was the familiar touch, or maybe it was due to the delightful image of his friend's soft, hairy belly, covered in his cum that flashed in his head, but Ville's breath quickened, he arched his back and suddenly came in the senior's mouth. Hiili choked and started back. Ville giggled, covering his mouth with his hand:
'Oops, pardon,' of course, Ville should have warned him, but he somehow forgot about Hiili completely. 'Sorry... I didn't meant to...' he giggled.
'That's ok, love,' Hiili said. He even felt a little flattered by his new lover's unexpected passionate outburst. And then Ville started to feel uncomfortable about the whole thing. There was no tenderness for Hiili in his heart, but there was an overwhelming sense of gratitude for what he had done to him. That very sense of gratitude even allowed him to imitate a somewhat sensual and passionate goodbye kiss. He grabbed a bottle of Koksenkorva with him when he was leaving Hiili's place, and drowned the whole bottle on his way home. It seemed to him that he didn't even get tipsy. He just kept falling as he walked, for some reason.
Unfortunately, by the time he made it home the sun was already up. And so was his mother, who was, so to speak, eagerly waiting for him to come back:
'Ville,' she said strictly. 'Are you aware that you don't have to walk on all fours every time you come back home?'
'Mom, I'm not... not a... vir... gin anymore,' said the son, sliding down the wall.
'I'm going to become a grandmother?' His mother uttered through clenched teeth.
'Wha? Haaaaaa... TEEEE-heeeeeheeeeeeeeee... hahaaahaaaaa,' the rest and hope of the family a.k.a. the shitloaded elder son bawled with laughter from the floor. 'Holy cripes! That would be a freaking show, if you... If I... ha-ha-haaaaa.'
'Ville, you're so drunk, I don't even want to talk to you. Go sleep it off.'
'Maa-dam, er... c-could you please... s-show me... to... my... r-room? Naaah stop it... don't... Why dragging me by the ear... it fucking hurts, you know... I'm not swearing... I...'
Well, and that's about it. That's how it all happened.
Of course, the next day Ville felt regret about his sexual experience, but that must have been due to hangover depression mixed with guilt. Hiili called him in the evening, and Ville told him about his epic return of the prodigal son. They both laughed about it, and Ville came to think that Hiili was in fact a decent guy.
A couple of days later a thought came to him, while he was lazily jerking off in the morning. In fact, the only time such a thought could come to one's mind is during a lazy morning jerk.
He thought that since Mige had denied him and Hiili was so easy to get along with and wasn't asking from him anything in return, then maybe he should avail himself of the situation a little more. At least his self-esteem rose dramatically after the said events. Turns out, things weren't that bad, and he was so desirable to someone, that the person was ready to get down on the knees and please him. It was interesting. He knew that he would've done it for Mige. In fact, he nearly did it a couple of times, and the only thing that stopped him from doing it was the thought that he would regret about it for the rest of his life. He didn't want to lose Mige as a friend.
It was pretty cool that Hiili was in love with him. Oh yeah, it was definitely cool. Ville even made a peculiar kind of entertainment out of it when Mige came back from the army: fucking with Hiili, while completely cold-headed, and then merrily maintain his friendship with Mige. For some reason, he was getting a twisted kind of kick out of feeling nothing during sex, apart from the sex itself. It was giving him a ravishing sense of freedom and liberty. A freedom over himself, in the very least. And Hiili was sweet. They became really good friends.
And then one night they were playing a gig and met a woman, who shaped their life almost as much as their mothers had. Silke. A foreigner, married to a Finn, manager in show business. She liked them unexpectedly lot, although she was laughing for three hours straight at Ville and his habit to sing with his ass turned to the audience.
'You've got a nice ass, Ville, but trust my experience, the audience would like to see your face as well, at least sometimes.'
Ville was very shy, but he liked Silke. She was easy to talk to, almost like a guy, although a girl. Well, it would be an overstatement to say that she was like a mother to them, but she definitely was like an elder sister. He and Mige discussed it. All in all, she seemed trustworthy and was an authority to both of them.
And Silke liked them. And the fact that she liked them turned out to be a truly life changing thing. It wasn't even that she was good at talking business, it was that she introduced them to Seppo's wife. Even in their wildest dreams, they couldn't imagine to get themselves Seppo – the legendary manager of Hanoi Rocks, but his wife agreed to manage them. Ville and Mige got wasted to the success of that enterprise, although their hands were shaking. It was completely unbelievable, but it looked like they were given the opportunity to take their band a bit further, break away from small clubs and Finnish underground scene. Sure thing, nothing was set in stone yet, but damn it, they were given a chance to make their lifelong dream come true!
Then Ville met a beautiful girl.
And for some reason she was willing to fuck him.
It was some kind of a completely unexpected, wonderful coincidence, and he promised himself that he wouldn’t blow that opportunity.
She.
Every single thing about her was enchanting. Starting from the shiny black curls and eyes, to her pussy that was getting wet during sex.
Turns out, Mother Nature was much more caring in terms of lubrication and comfort of the coitus than he originally thought. Of course, she didn't suck nearly as good as Hiili, in fact, she couldn't suck at all, her attempts to imitate passion by sucking around the head of his dick (which he personally didn't consider to be that big) could barely pass for a blow job. But he liked to fuck her for a whole number of esthetical reasons.
He really liked her body, he liked her face and the glimpses of passion in her facial features and her eyes. He was too late to realize though that it wasn't a passion or desire for him, it was her natural, universal charisma, so to speak. He liked her legs, her lips, her dainty fingers, but most of all, he liked himself with her.
All of a sudden, the whole family was very serious about it, when he introduced his girlfriend to his parents. It was as if he was instantly taken to the next, higher level of the game. In a clap, everyone started to treat him like a man, and not a boy. Linde and Mige suddenly became very respectful and courteous towards him. As if by a sheer fact of having a girlfriend, he earned the respect, which he didn't have before. It was as infatuating as the hair, face, pussy and legs of his loved one. He almost felt like an overhuman. Hiili was a little upset about the fact that Ville found himself a girlfriend, but... The thing was, around that time Seppo had taken over his wife's project and they started to record their first official album. Ville nearly went crazy, for it meant that they were facing opportunity to get into the same league as his idols: Ozzy, KISS and Depeche Mode. He pretty much moved into the studio. He was spending all of his time there, days and nights, afraid to miss the moment.
Hiili nearly spit out his guts, laughing at him.
'You're eating some plastic shit and sleeping on that ancient, abused fucking couch.'
'I didn't abuse that couch!' Said Ville.
'You are fucking nuts,' said Hiili.
'I am,' Ville agreed in all seriousness.
Hiili liked his determination. He wasn't as self-assured. He was looking forward to see where it all would go.
Ville's girlfriend didn't like the fact that he preferred to spend the nights at the studio, sleeping on the couch. First of all, she didn't believe him. And for some reason he hadn't found the words eloquent enough to get his point across and explain to her how much the whole deal meant to him. Well, and she, in her turn, clearly had no desire to understand him. Each of them was pursuing a different goal, as it often happens in gender conflicts. She was trying to get the best deal for her cunt, and he was a fool, thinking that she was looking for love and passion like he was.
Naturally, she liked the royalties that came with him being some-what famous. The parties, photoshoots, concerts and her queen status were wonderful. So were his flat and his obsession with her, but they were constantly on a tight budget. He always though that he should invest the money in that enterprise of his. He was spending all the money to get a better studio for the recording session, make the promotion, advertisement and all that happen, because, according to him, it cost a lot of money, but it was necessary. Apart from that, he hadn't given her even as much as a hint that he was willing to take their relationship to the next level, namely to have at least a verbal consent to a civil marriage.
Soon enough, she decided that Ville was a useless prick, who wasn't worth spending her best years on, and that he would never amount to anything. He knew nothing about women. He didn't understand her at all, moreover, it hadn't even appeared to him at the time that there was some underlying motive in her actions, which was supposed to understand. In his world, he loved her more than he loved himself. When she called him, saying that someone sneaked into their apartment, he ran to her from the other side of the city, because it would've taken longer by any other means. He was ready to give his life for her. To him it was natural, because she was his woman, and he was her man. How could it be any other way?
He made the typical mistake of a young man, he took her lies and manipulation for truth. He took the desire to get herself a lifelong slave, who would ensure and reinforce her actualization as a woman - for love. But she had such beautiful hair, legs and pussy. It just had to be true. Soon enough, she decided that Ville wasn't the prince of her dreams, and that she could get a better deal elsewhere. She was breaking up with him when he was too busy with his work to spend enough time with her, she was coming back, if he was giving her the money to buy what she wanted. He couldn't understand what was wrong with him, because she, naturally, wasn't telling him.
At one point, after one final quarrel they separated for good and divided their estate. She moved out of his apartment, and took with her every single thing they had bought over the course of their relationship.
Following that, Ville quite predictably felt himself a loser, who fucked up his relationship. He tried to apologize, or so it seemed to him, he tried to set things right with her, but then, all of a sudden, he felt that he didn't have the strengths to do that. Maybe he was too weak, maybe she was right, and he really didn't have the balls, at least not in the sense that she was looking for.
Ville felt really uneasy. He got down with a terrible fever and flu. His dear asthma immediately made its step on the scene and trapped him in the Bermuda triangle of medications to sleep through the night without waking up, suffocating, unable to inhale or exhale. It was a funny illness, that asthma thing. During the day he usually felt just fine. He was just like a normal human being, he went to bed and then every night he would wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, unable to breath in or out. The immediate sting of panic was only making the things worse, because the more time it took him to calm down, the further was the moment when he could come to his senses, when the raspy wheezes of a dying man, each promising to be the last one, turned into normal breath.
He couldn't really tell anyone that he was suffering from coughing – the guys were usually laughing at him, and he was afraid to go to sleep each night. He usually went to sleep as he was, in full dress, so to speak – so in case he died, people didn't find him lying there in his sponge bob underwear or, better still, without any underwear at all. It was nearly impossible to explain that overwhelming terror to someone, who didn't have to go through it every night, and each cough was threatening to cause a new asthmatic attack. Everyone was making a laughing stock of him, while he made a habit to glorify each new dawn.
Because a dawn meant relief.
The mornings were hard, because the asthma pills, which he was supposed to take, were reducing the blood pressure, so he couldn't sleep at night for five hours straight... from the start of the asthmatic attack until the end of it. He could barely remember who he was in the morning. After a cup of coffee. And then he switched to something that was a little bit stronger than coffee. Just a tiny bit. And fuck, he was able to sleep after that. He could sleep when he was drunk. When he was going to sleep sober, two thirty in the morning were waking him up with a choking fit, making him wake up and do something. And when he was drunk, he could sleep through the night. No one could ever explain that to him. But he could sleep through the night, when he was drunk. The medicine was helpless, as they say. The fear of a sudden death that could come any night infiltrated his guts as nothing else could.
He was celebrating each new day like a fucking vampire, or something of an opposite nature. Because he knew that he was alive still. He liked to make jokes about it, he knew his fear, but the problem was there, and especially after the break up with the girl of his flickering dreams, the problem swallowed him up to the point when he simply couldn't sleep.
And that day it was the same... He was just afraid to go to sleep sober and he really wanted to get drunk. Mige kindly came round with two bottles of whiskey, saying that he wanted to support his friend in a difficult situation. And that was a timely aid. Actually, that's where it all had started.
Ville had lost control.
He was drunk. Otherwise, he wouldn't have done that. He remembered that he wasn't supposed to do that. He treasured his relationship with the Mige, and the last thing he wanted to do was fuck that up, too.
But he was drunk.
After the amount of alcohol in his blood had reached a certain high level, he decided to make a move on Mige once again.
Why the hell did he do that? Why the hell...
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Eros vs Thanatos: Whoever wins... We lose