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Truth About Heaven	By : Vally Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > HIM Views: 792 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of HIM. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Truth About Heaven
- 1
A/N: Ok, this came about as I was watching Armor for Sleep’s video for The Truth About Heaven. Very sad…. And I was thinking about a friend of mine and my boyfriend’s who had someone close to them die, not by suicide but yeah… still sad and I was just all inspired and shit… so yeah….. Kinda romantic… in a warped sense…

Warnings: VAM, SLASH, songfic, Violence, cursing, character death, Depressing, self harm….. Other stuff? Eh….

Full Summery: A ghost watches his lover and ponders many dark things and a few gray-ish ones…… VAM

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the Ville Valo or Bam Margera. I make zero cash on this so keep the lawyers and such at bay! I am but a poor college student have mercy on my abused, EasyMac(which is also copyrighted and not mine) nourished frame!!!!

Archiving: If you would like to add my work to your own site please send me an Email. Or if you have a suggestion of another good place for me to post send me a link. ^^

Truth About Heaven

You never realize what you have until it’s gone….. Or until your gone…. Who would have thought that something so ridiculous would have killed me when so much else could have…… So much else. Death is strange. Being a ghost is even stranger. To watch constantly and interact only on occasion is…. Different. I miss some things more then others. I miss the cool autumn air, I miss the radio blowing out my eardrums as I speed down a highway…. And I miss him. I miss him most of all. And I doubt following him, practically stalking him really, is healthy even by ghost standards.

I’ve seen only a handful of others. Some are like me, watching over a loved one. Others are very bitter, spending their between-life haunting a single location. They wait obsessively for a moment of sensation, a moment in which they can touch and effect the world. I haven’t had one yet. One youthful looking but obviously very old, if the elderly lady he followed was anything to judge by, ghost told me that it could take years. He had waited nearly fifteen long years and when he finally held her in his arms she cried and pushed him away. She didn’t believe that he was with her. She had given up on him and yet he protected her. As much as a ghost could anyway. Later another told me that she had touched her mother’s cheek only days after her death. This lovely youth had given me more hope then she could possibly fathom.

He nearly got married a few weeks ago. That had been odd. The way he suddenly proposed right out of the blue. I would have been offended had he not spent four weeks in his room only leaving twice. The first time his mother had managed to get in while he lay, curled up in bed staring at nothing, or so she thought though in truth I had been not even a foot away staring right back at him, and she gently maneuvered him into the shower before taking him to the kitchen for some soup. When his wits had returned after a dozen or so mouthfuls he froze and my heart broke for the hundredth time since returning to his side. He bolted back to his lair and slammed every lock home as tears flooded both his and his mother’s eyes. I didn’t know who I wanted to reassure more at that moment. My lover or his mother. She was a kind woman and so very worried about her son.

I went to him after watching tears slide down the poor woman’s face for a few beats of her heart. He was curled up like a lost puppy. I was mildly surprised that he had enough fluid in his body to cry and that it wasn’t simply blood that streaked his pale cheeks. I had never seen him so pale….. Not even at my funeral…..

Walk past my grave in the dark tonight,
Saw the stone and the note you left for me,
to answer your question I just had to leave,
I just had to leave

The sky was cloudy but not a drop of rain fell from the darkness. Everyone was there, even a handful of reporters had snuck in. In the first row surrounding a beautifully carved ebony wood coffin were Dani, Lauri sobbing into Aki’s shoulder, Linde and his girls, Burton, Mige and Gas half leaning on each other with tears in their eyes, and HIM. My wonderful, handsome, brilliant, devilish, beloved. Standing silently with black tears painting stripes down his solemn face, his entire body looked stricken, and depression rolled off of him in waves. My Bammie. He wore his purple blazer, loose black dress pants, my favorite scarf, a heartagram emblazoned beanie, and no shirt. The general press had thought him inappropriately dressed but nobody who really mattered minded. Really the only ones wearing anything “appropriate” were Phil and April. But that was how they were and I expected nothing less. Which had been Bam’s whispered point when April suggested he put on a suit or at least a shirt. Her equally soft reply had been that she was sure I found him quite handsome as I watched him from heaven and that was what really counted. He was silent.

There was a huge concert in honor of my memory. And secretly in hopes of cheering my Bammie up. It failed quite miserably. My parents trying to console him had been the last straw. Neither of them spoke as well as I do…. Did…. In English and the thick accent and occasional slip up back into Finnish had torn at Bam’s heart. He loved my native language no matter how much he complained when it was spoken by me or anyone else. I could see his perfect blue eyes break a little more with every foreign syllable. When he had enough he turned and ran into his room. No one saw or heard from him for nearly a week. No one but me. I watched over him, tried to touch him, to sing to him, scribble him a note, anything to let him know I was with him and missing him. Nothing worked.

I had to sit by and watch him waste away. Until he simply got up one morning, got a shower, changed, ate breakfast and left. He went to that Missy woman and proposed to her. I was even more concerned then ever now. This was not my Bammie. This was a shell and yet I stayed by the shell’s side through that God awful show, through the wedding and the divorce. Not once was I able to touch him and not once did he touch that girl in the way he touched me. He was not nearly as careful or loving as he had been with me. He pawed at her yes, but the emotions were dry impressions compared to the passion we shared.

Now he spends much of his time just sitting and contemplating. He will stay in a single chair, unmoving for hours looking at nothing, though normally I imagine it’s me. That he can see me in that nothingness as I sit or stand across from his motionless form. His friends worry for him. They were scared to loose their rock, the one thing that never truly broke not even in the face of a giant snake did he do more then shift slightly deep inside though he put on a brilliant show. My friends worried for him also but they feared loosing a second friend. They shouldn’t have worried. And really, neither should have I. We all know Bam better and he knows that I would want him to continue on with his life… To live and come back into my arms full of stories about his adventures…. He’s started going on long drives now and he travels…. He simply goes out and sees the countryside…. Like we had talked about doing after we came out. Traveling aimlessly, perhaps dragging the band and some of Bam’s Crew with us. Playing random shows and wreaking havoc….. However there were no more shows for HIM, they just didn‘t have the heart to replace me, and Bam left every small town he came across in his meanderings untouched by his usual chaos. It almost made me sad actually……

But that's not why I'm here,
I came down here to tell you it rains in heaven all day long,
I wanna find you so bad and let you know
I'm miserable up here without you, miserable up here without you

Heaven is a very special place. It’s both better and worse then Earth. In my heaven it’s very dark and very cold. It rains softly, a depressing drizzle and nothing more. I hate it. I know that I need my light to brighten my heaven. I need my Bam…… I still try everyday to tell him, to show him how much I still need him. To let him know that I really am waiting for him because he feels so abandoned, I see it in his watery blue eyes late at night. He is silent as tears trickle down and he stairs at nothingness. Even though he has started traveling, even skating, again and seems almost himself he can still be found contemplating once in a while. Even I wonder what he thinks about. After all just because I’m a ghost doesn’t mean I can read minds and everyone is so worried about him.

I visit April sometimes.

When Bam is on the other side of the world and he’s asleep while she’s awake. She talks to me, not that she knows I am with her or is sure that I can even hear her at all. April worries about Bam even more then she used to. She asks me to look after her baby boy. She’ll be looking right at me and for a moment I believe she can see me because she’ll smile. It’s tired, a bit sad and somehow ages her face ten years as she murmurs “Why do I bother asking? I know you will sweetheart. I should have learned by now that you will always be there to catch him. A silly thing like death can’t stop Ville Valo, can it?” And I reply with a soft smile of my own and, “Nothing can keep me from Bam, April. Your son is the other half of my poor soul. Not even God himself could stop me from being with him.”

I still haven’t met God. I’d like to though. To thank him for my handsome Bammie. That’s all. Just a short thank you for my Bam……

Found my way back in the dark tonight,
Couldn't wake up not right next to you,
I'd trade in forever to just hear you say the sound of my name,

But that's not why I'm here,
I came down here to tell you it rains in heaven all day long,
I wanna find you so bad and let you know
I'm miserable up here without you, miserable up here without you

Every year, like clockwork, Bam visits my grave on the anniversary of my funeral. He cleans the polished black marble, ridding it of whatever dirt has accumulated and brings along a single rose to sit atop the stone. Red with black tipped petals, and no thorns. He has it arranged with the keeper at the cemetery to have all of the things that my fans leave cleared away by the time he gets there at sunset and once every week he doesn’t visit. He has the gifts and tokens sent to my parents at my mother’s request.

I remember my last moment with him. I know that he does too because he tells me. Every year when he visits. He recalls our last moments in such vivid detail that I feel like he’s narrating a movie he’s watching rather then recalling a long gone memory. Though I suppose five years isn’t very long. His first visit had been a bit different. He was depressed and still bleeding, though so few saw the crimson staining his soul. He told me he loved me, and that I was missed by so many... He promised never to forget me or let anyone else forget me… And he asked me why I left... This broke my heart the most because I didn’t really know what to tell him. Even if I could have spoken and he have heard me all I could have said was, “I just had to leave…. It was my time….”

I still don’t know what I would say…….

Five long years and he hasn’t heard a word. Hasn’t felt a single touch or seen an inch of my ghostly form. I lay beside him most nights as he sleeps or has one of his contemplation sessions. I wonder as I lay there if he even recalls my touch, my voice, my look… Then I remember that I was a famous man and that I was famous because I sang in a band. Hell he had a poster of me still hanging in his room and every CD in every one of his cars. Still, he might have forgotten my touch. I suppose that’s why I touch him so much. Though I swear he felt me once. He was buying food at a market in France. His French is worse then his Finnish… But he tried and the shop keeper, a kindly middle aged woman, thought he was adorable. I was chuckling and ran my hand through his hair and down his cheek affectionately, murmuring about how cute he was and how I could remember him trying to speak Finnish for my mom when he first met her. How he practice a few simple sentences for days. A greeting, a compliment and an expression of love for her son. That is all he wanted to say to my mother. That is what he had wanted to be able to tell her, not in English that he knew she wouldn’t completely understand but in her own native tongue so that nothing was lost. I helped him as best I could, making the terms as simple as possible without loosing any of the intensity he wanted the words to have and he stumbled through the whole thing blushing wildly. My mother cried. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks and she hugged him tightly. She called him her son in law, despite our inability to marry by most laws, and did her best to tell him, in broken English, how proud she was of me for picking such a wonderful man. She cries whenever she sees Bam now. She does her best to wait until he cannot see her but tears flood her eyes and she prays for him. She even tells me to watch over him, that he deserves at least that much.

I remember his momentary tense and the way he shook his head as if to clear it. I had frozen, confused until I figured out why he had acted in such a way. He had to have felt me stroke his cheek! It couldn’t be a fluke! But try as I might for weeks afterward, touching every inch of flesh a hundred times, he didn’t react again. Not once.

I hate not being able to touch or speak to people…

Don't believe that it's better when you leave everything behind,
Don't believe that the weather is perfect the day that you die,
Don't believe that the weather is perfect the day that you die

I came down here to tell you it rains in heaven all day long (all day long),
I wanna find you so bad and let you know
I'm miserable up here without you, miserable up here without you

I won’t be alone much longer. I can feel it. Sure, I haven’t really been alone for a rather long time now. My Bammie’s old friend Brandon Novak overdosed what seems like forever ago while Jess, Bam‘s brother, died a year ago, and poor Dani came here almost three years ago. Jess adjusted well, finding a happy little place to wait out his wife’s last years and watch over his girls, but the Englishman stayed with me for months. Apparently heaven was more of a shock to him then hell would have been. If there even is a hell, I’m personally not convinced. They visit once in a while, Jess more then Dani. Poor Dan has taken up “God Hunting” he’s convinced himself that this isn’t heaven, that it’s nothing, and if he finds God in this infinite space then it‘s heaven if not then he‘s right and we are nowhere. I think he lost a few marbles on the way up here.

And I still haven’t seen Novak, though Jess has spoken of him so I suppose he’s here somewhere…..

Bam’s forty seventh birthday is soon. He’s aged surprisingly well. He turned Castle Bam into a Ville Valo monument and a HIM museum more or less and the grounds were turned into a “Skater’s Retreat” is how April put it. Currently it’s invitation only but Bam is leaving it to his mother. It would seem he somehow knows she will out live him though I doubt it will be by a significant amount of time. Burying both of her sons will be the death of that poor woman I’m sure.

I’ve been trying to be patient as I await my lover’s arrival. I’ve tried to will the rain and bleak atmosphere out of my heaven to make things look perfect for him but it just won’t work. I stopped bothering a few days ago. Now I just follow my Bam around. He’s been practically haunting Castle Bam lately. He invited a few people to keep him company but he still keeps to himself. Tony Hawk and his family, along with Ryan Dunn, who I’m surprised hasn’t died with how many cars he‘s flipped, blown up and just generally mangled, and a few of what is left of the CKY crew and several from the Jackass crew are staying. By some miracle Johnny Knoxville is still alive and pulling pranks though he’s left Bam alone for now.

I watch my lover as he sits by the pool. The loss of weight, even all these years later, from his self abuse following my death is still evident in his shirtless state. He’s gained back muscle tone but he’s still skinnier then I had ever seen him in my life. Ryan is on his right while several of the other guests wreak havoc on Bam’s pool and the surrounding area though Bam himself is left surprisingly undisturbed. I sit on the edge of the lounge chair, down by Bam’s feet and listen to Ryan and Bam speak.

“So, are you doing anything special for your birthday?” Ryan asks. Bam shrugs, “Gonna go visit Ape? I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

“Maybe…” he says softly as he watches the chaos in his pool.

A beat of silence.

“Why don’t we go out? Maybe see how Rex’s is holding up? We haven’t been there in ages, at least I haven’t been.” Ryan tried to smile. “It’ll be like old times!”

Bam sipped at a bottle of beer, “I think I’ll stay in this year.”

“That’s what you did last year Bam!” Ryan sighed in exasperation, “And the year before that, and the year before that and you know what you did every fucking year since Ville died?!” He was shouting now and everyone had an ear on them, “You moped around like a fucking pussy! It’s been over twenty years for Christ’s sake! Why can’t you move on?! Just forget him Bam! He‘s dead! Gone and he’s not coming back!”

Bam’s jaw was clenched and tears threatened to spill over and flow down his cheeks. I reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his leg. He tensed suddenly, clutching the bottleneck before relaxing. A single tear escaped to roll down his cheek. His eyes were so broken as they stared right at me and I found myself trembling. He felt me. He knew that my hand was on his leg! But could he see me? I smiled. A small sad smile. He smiled back, a slight quirk of his lips. Reminiscent of his old cocky, shit eating smirk from so long ago. Little more then a ghost of that smile.

“Because….” He’s whispering as he looks at me, “He’s here Dunn. He never left. How can I just forget someone when they’re always with me? He‘s been watching over me, don‘t you understand? He loves me so much and I haven‘t been without him. Not a single day has gone by without him being there, just like he always said he would be.”

Everyone was staring.

They thought he had finally lost his mind. I didn’t need to read minds to know that. I let my hand fall away as he stood and mumbled some excuse about a nap before dinner. I followed him to his room and watched him lie in bed smiling up at the ceiling. I sat by his head and stroked his hair, unsure if he could still feel my touch. Regardless we would be together soon.

I think I may have fallen asleep beside him... I doubt I’ll ever be sure…

Don't believe that the weather is perfect the day that you die

There is sunlight and warmth in my heaven for the first time thought it’s still raining.

Bam died that night. Ryan found him early the next morning, laying in bed his face slack, hands clutching the last picture ever taken of him and I, pulled close together and grinning like mad men. He look peaceful I suppose. Ryan cried but they weren’t sad tears. He was smiling a little and I knew that he was happy for my Bammie. Glad that we would be reunited. He called 911 and woke up the rest of the house. No one really cried, Mrs. Hawk shed a few tears but they were happy. They all knew that Bam had been pining away since I died and now he was home in my arms.

He woke up and grinned at me. He spent a small eternity just touching my face, running his fingers through my hair, long and curly as it had been when we first met, and grinning stupidly up at me from the grassy ground of my… our, heaven. We kissed for ages before I pulled him up and back down to earth. I don’t know why. I really would have just liked to spend a handful of years or more making love to him in our heaven but I felt we were needed. As it turned out everyone, even April, was at the hospital. The band caught a red eye and would arrive in the morning.

Bam laughed at the confusion his death caused for the doctors. Apparently there had been nothing wrong with him. He just…. Left was how Ryan was putting it. April cried and Bam tried to comfort her. All he achieved was flinging a medical tray across the morgue as he ranted after his autopsy and failed attempt at comforting his mother. The action scaring a young tech half to death. I held him and reassured him that she would be ok. I knew that we would see her soon. Jess appeared out of nowhere then, and patted him on the back agreeing with me. Seeing his brother brought the smile back to my lover’s lips.

We all went to his funeral. We even dug up Novak and Dani. It seems the two men had teamed up trying to find God. Bam laughed his ass off at hearing this.

April had him buried beside me on the grounds of Castle Bam. Then the area was fenced off with dark, gothic fencing and a memorial statue put up near the gate. It’s a lovely work by an artist who sent several pieces to Bam and my parents over the years. Work that was inspired by my music mostly and that he felt held to much raw emotion for a public show. He said that it seemed they were private emotions deep within the songs that came out in his art and some of what he sent was rather… eerie. One that he sent was a piece of metal and glass work. A metal man stood on what looked like the upper portion of a half pipe, staring out at nothing. Behind him a man made of smokey glass stood pressed against the metal man’s back, thin glass arms held around broader metal shoulders. Those who didn’t know any back ground information on the inspiration for the piece would have said the glass figure was a woman with it’s curling shoulder length hair but Bam knew better. It was a sculpture of him and Ville. His Ville as a ghost. Looking back receiving that bit of art had been the turning point in Bam’s life after his lover’s death.

“But none of that matters anymore!” Bam grinned as they strolled in the sun that bathed the yard of Castle Bam. “We’re together, forever!”

I grinned and held Bam’s hand tightly as I laid my head on the younger ghost’s shoulder. April had, as I suspected she would, opened Castle Bam to the public and put one of Bam‘s skater buddies in charge. What wasn’t spent on upkeep and improvements was put into a few charities including the HIM Fund. A music scholarship Bam set up a few years before he died. Castle Bam had become the Skatetopia of West Chester and Bam couldn’t be prouder. I love to watch him as he grins out over his kingdom and the joy it brings so many.

It’s been five years now. It still rains in my heaven but Bam and I spend so much time on earth that I can’t bring myself to care… Bam is soaking up the joys of his ghost status. He was thrilled when he first made contact with the living world, after the hospital incident that is. Since then we have both been seen separately and together. They say we haunt the grounds, protecting it. They don’t worry about us aside from the occasional prank from Bam. It is said we are content to be with each other and they’re right. Ryan visits often and he brings a red and black rose for each of our graves. We sit and listen to him tell us about the goings on beyond our castle. Sometimes he’ll ask about Jess, April or Novak. Knoxville died in a hit and run. How strangely common an end for him considering the stunts he had continued to pull, breezing past the age of forty with hardly a blink or pause. Ryan started to ask about him too. There were jokes and sad chuckles shared. Ryan was very lonely. He made a special trip no matter what on the anniversary of Bam’s death.

A shame he would be the last to join us…

The strangest thing about this entire happening though, at least to me, is that every year upwards of two hundred people come to Castle Bam for the anniversary of mine and/or Bam’s death and on both days the sky is cloudy and a light drizzle rains down. It never fails. Twice every year the weather at Castle Bam is predictably the same. It reflects our heaven. I wonder what our fans would think if they knew? Not that it matters anymore, I have my after life with my Bam and that is all that counts for anything….

Fin.

A/N: Wow… this is so stream of consciousness… my English teacher would kill me for this!!-.-' But yeah… it gets less sense making toward the end and I’m not happy with the ending but yeah… A one shot of crack is what this fic was meant as and that’s what it turned out being!! ^^ Well, I hope at least someone thinks it’s mildly interesting… so yeah. REVIEW and tell me how lame I am!! *^^*
~Nkundra
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Truth About Heaven