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Killing Me Softly	By : TaimaMarie Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > HIM Views: 870 -:- 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-Killing Me Softly
- 1
Bam lay back on his bed, eyes wide awake, heart thudding in his chest. Though he was clad only in his boxers, and though the sheet was only pulled up to his waist, he felt hot. He felt like his blood was boiling in his veins.
The house was quiet. Everyone had gone to bed. The face of the clock glowed at him blurrily. Bam wasn’t aware of the time passing him by, and it didn’t matter. He knew that there was no sleep in this night.
His ears rang still, hummed and echoed with the remains of the night as he got up and padded downstairs.
His heart thrummed, seeming to keep the beat of the songs. His skin still sang with the music, the electricity in the air. He reached for a beer from the fridge and sat down at the table, sipping it.
“You could be the death of me.” He murmured out loud.

Strumming my pain with his fingers,
Singing my life with his words.
Killing me softly with his song,
Killing me softly with his song.
Telling my whole life with his words,
Killing me softly.

“Bam! Bam!” he remembered that day a month ago when Ryan had come skidding into the house.
“What?”
“HIM! HIM’s coming! They’re going to be in concert.” He waved a flyer around. Bam snatched it, his eyes scanning the printed words hungrily.
“No way,” he breathed.
“Believe it.” Ryan sang.
“We are so there!” Bam leaped into the air and grabbed his cell phone, ready to get on the horn to make sure he scored some good tickets. He was made of money. There was nothing that was out of his reach.
He loved HIM. He had all the CDs, played them again and again and again until April begged him not to. Bam told himself that it was the lyrics, it was the music. But there was something about that Finnish voice that haunted him, that gave him chills down his spine.
The tickets were secured within minutes. Now all he had to do was wait. The month seemed endless. The night finally came, and there was he was, front and center, staring at the stage.
And there was Ville Valo, Finnish rock star. He smiled, and one look of those green eyes made Bam lose his breath. And then music began to play.
The world spun all around him, but Bam was standing still.

I heard he sang a good song,
I heard he had a style.
And so I came to see him,
To listen for awhile.
And there he was this young boy,
A stranger to my eyes.

And then he started singing.
This was completely different than hearing it on CD. This was different than staring at posters of the man.
This was the best thing that ever happened to him.
This was the worst thing that ever happened to him.
The world was going too fast. Bam swallowed as the singer crooned into the microphone, his green eyes glowing, his hair flipping. His pale fingers of one hand held onto the mic, the other hand clutched a bottle of beer.
Oh God, why was that so sexy?

Strumming my pain with his fingers,
Singing my life with his words,
Killing me softly with his song,
Killing me softly with his song.
Telling my whole life with his words.
Killing me softly with his song.

Bam felt his face turning red, saw his hands trembling as Ville sang, his head thrown back, mouth wide open. He looked around him, aware suddenly of the roaring of the crowd around him.
Were they staring at him? Did they notice him? Did they see him? He swallowed and bit down on his lower lip.
Why did it feel like Ville’s words were his words? Why did it feel like he had said these things before? Maybe he had, in a past life. Or maybe he had in this life, said these things not thinking anything could possibly come of it.
But here it was. Something was coming of it. Bam couldn’t take his eyes off the sight in front of him. He couldn’t look away from this man, so pale that the only thing that let him now he wasn’t some sort of ethereal vision was the tattoos that marred him.
No, they didn’t mar him. They made him real. They were part of him.
This had to stop sometime, didn’t it? This sweet torture had to be almost over. But no, Ville sang on and on, his words piercing through Bam’s flesh and sinking right down into his bones.

I felt all flushed with fever,
Embarrassed by the crowd.
I felt he found my letters,
And read each one out loud.
I prayed that he would finish.
But he just kept right on.

Bam tried to remind himself to keep breathing. It wouldn’t do to simply pass out. It wouldn’t get him any attention. It would do anything accept maybe get him trampled by the screaming fan girls all around.
He felt like maybe he was dying. Ville, this beautiful, beautiful boy was killing him. Was that even possible? Was it possible to be killed by a song? He supposed that maybe anything could happen.
If he could feel like this, anything at all was possible.

Strumming my pain with his fingers,
Singing my life with his words.
Killing me softly with his song,
Killing me softly with his song.
Telling my whole life with his words,
Killing me softly with his song.

This was just so insane, Bam thought. It was as though Ville had been with him his whole life. It was as though these songs were written specifically about him. He let himself think about that, think about having this lovely singer with him.
He thought about those fingers on his face, instead of around that beer bottle. He thought of those lips, away from the microphone and maybe on his skin. The imagined thought of the pressure on his skin made him whimper.
Bam plucked up his courage. He opened his mouth and screamed out the singer’s name, just once. Once was all he thought he could do. Ville looked into the crowd.
But his eyes slipped right over Bam. The skater felt something breaking inside his chest, and realized that it was his heart. He felt that now, he really and truly could die here. This signer might be the death of him.
The crowd around him continued to jump. Bam could only stay still. Ville continued singing. He sang like there was nothing wrong. Like he wasn’t a murderer, like he didn’t have the power to bring the boy to his knees with one smile, one word from his lips.

He sang as if he knew me,
In all my dark despair.
And then he looked right through me,
As if I wasn’t there.
And he just kept on singing,
Singing clear and strong.

“Isn’t this great? Isn’t this the best?” Dunn was shouting in his ear. Bam just nodded, speechless, wordless, boneless, and spiritless. Everything he had was being ripped away from him.
Everything he had was Ville’s. Ville held his whole life in those finger tips. It was like he had taken those pieces of Bam’s life, precious presents, and was now giving them away freely as he kept on singing.

Strumming my pain with his fingers,
Singing my life with his words.
Killing me softly with his song,
Killing me softly with his song.
Telling my whole life with his words.
Killing me softly with his song.

Before he died, the concert was over. Bam didn’t know if he was happy about that or disappointed. He swallowed a few times and let Ryan drag him out. They hadn’t managed to get a hold of backstage passes.
For all his money, that did seem to be just past his reach. He looked over his shoulder, saw Ville walking backstage. He longed to run across the stage, to grab the man’s hands, to spill out the truth.
But he just kept walking.

Strumming my pain with his fingers.
Singing my life with his words.
Killing me softly with his song,
Killing me softly with his song.
Telling my whole life with his words,
Killing me softly with his song.

He felt almost like he was coming down off a bad high as they drove home. The others were yelling, shouting about what a great show it had been. But it had run late, and they all fell into bed as soon as they came home.
Bam took a long, hot shower. Like maybe he could wash away the feeling the concert had given him. Like maybe it would run off his skin, slip away from him down the drain.
Of course not. It was embedded in his skin. Like those tattoos that Ville had. It was part of him now. It was something that was going to help define him for the rest of his life. Bam was sure of that now. There was no escaping from this.
“Ville,” he gave himself the privilege of speaking the name just once while he was alone in the shower. And then he tried, and failed, to sleep.

Strumming my pain with his fingers,
Singing my life with his words.
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song.
Telling my whole life with his words,
Killing me…

And so now, there he was, holding a beer in his hand. He thought about the one that Ville had held. He wished, oh how he wished, that Ville was here now. He wanted to be sharing a beer; he wanted that voice to be singing to him, in his ear.
“This is a long time,” he told himself, rubbing his hand down his face. Every nerve in his body sang still. He couldn’t calm down.
He didn’t want to.
He wanted to keep that feeling that Ville had given him. He wanted to pull it close to his heart, hoard it, and guard it jealously.
The only thing that Bam was sure of was that Ville belonged to him. He just had to. He swallowed the last of the beer and sighed. He stood up, stretched, feeling his ribs.
“I could mark myself, too.” He said to the empty kitchen. “So someday, you’d really know that I’m yours.”
He dragged himself upstairs.

He was strumming my pain,
Yeah, he was singing my life.
Killing me softly with his song,
Killing me softly with his song.
Telling my whole life with his words,
Killing me softly with his song.
- 1
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Killing Me Softly