(no subject)
the academy is; rise of the fall tour series, 2005
tautou (5/10)
tom, mike / william, 2524 words (nc17)
-- i'm sinking like a stone in the sea; i'm burning like a bridge for your body
The view from a dusty window in the corner of an equally dirty room shows that outside, which just hours before was bright and cool, is now completely covered in snowflakes dancing around in the wind. It's freezing in the little venue, so Tom looks for a sweater, puts on one of William's old beat up black blazers-- it's a little tight in the arms, but it's all he can find so it'll do-- and sets off to track down the other guys.
The thing about tour is, you spend so much time with the same people doing the same thing day in and day out that sometimes you need to get away. In the hours before the show, Tom notices that the backstage area becomes less and less occupied. All the techs and roadies are on stage, setting up, making sure that the show can actually get up and running, and all the band members have mysteriously vanished from the premises.
Robert and Ned usually walk around the surrounding area of the city they are in to find a coffee place, meet up with Matt, Taylor and Louie for lunch, or an early dinner. All the guys in AAR have their girlfriends with them on the tour bus, so they stay relatively occupied all day.
Tom notices that his own band likes to get as far away from each other as possible. Well, most of the time.
Adam will usually fall asleep in a random room, on some beat up couch, hugging a pillow. Andy will set up his drums backstage and practice, tweaking the sound to his liking. Tom notices that while they are usually quite easy to locate, it's rather difficult to even notice William and Mike sneaking off. They've perfected the art of being stealth, of escaping from a crowded room and having no one realize they're gone until hours later, of vanishing into thin air like they were taught by the best of illusionists. He understands why-- being able to slip away from crowds is often necessary on such small tours-- he just hasn't figured out where.
In a way, Tom feels kind of left out. Everyone does something with their time and he's always left behind to figure out what. It gets lonely being him, walking through empty hallways only to find that people want to be left alone. That's why it's nice having Jon on tour with them. At least with him around, Tom doesn't feel so forlorn.
A few rooms down from the one he is in, Andy is tapping symbols with careful precision, as if considering what to play. He decides on something simple but powerful, probably some old Taking Back Sunday b-side, and gives Tom a slight nod as he passes the room, but doesn't miss a beat. Tony runs into an open room, grabs a set of chords and a mic and runs back out. Tom notices that people tend to do that a lot.
When he gets to the room at the end of the hall, Adam is laying half on the couch in the corner and half on the floor. His left arm and leg are dangling dangerously over the side.
Tom tries his best to rotate him so he's completely on but only succeeds in getting tangled in Adam's thin limbs and having to pry his way out of a death grip. He finds a blanket and drapes it over Adam's small frame, covering his feet but making sure to stay far enough away that he won't be hugged half to death again. Tom surveys the room and decides there's nothing else interesting, so he'll continue his search, maybe check the stage or bother Jon some more.
"Hey," someone says outside.
"Oh hello, I didn't see you there, how have you been today?" another voice asks.
"Shut up," the first voice chuckles, and Tom starts to head to the door, but realizes this may be a private conversation. "Happy anniversary, idiot."
There is a moment of complete awkward silence, then the second voice manages to mumble out something that may or may not be, "I thought you forgot."
"Forgot? Shit, you practically put signs up," Tom's feet move him closer to the door and he tries to stay quiet. If he sticks his head out and looks to the left, he can probably see who is talking, but he doesn't need to look to know who it is. "Two years Bill, that's kind of hard to forget."
Tom is careful to open the door quietly. Adam is still fast asleep all curled up in a ball around a blanket, his deep breathing only interrupted by a funny dream he must be having-- something about the pirates stealing Ryan's dress, making him wear Pete's tutu instead. He doesn't want them to see him-- something about this situation just screams be stealth. He only looks out of the door for a second but he spots them, Mike and William pressed together at the end of the hall and walking backwards into a room.
Mike grabs William around the waist and pulls him down, sinking teeth into his neck and sucking harshly, causing William to giggle and moan and bite his bottom lip to keep from being too loud. His lips curve into the single most perfect smile in the history of all smiles and he blushes a shade of red that is reserved for fire trucks and barns, cranes his neck to allow Mike more leeway and kicks the door shut behind them.
Tom isn't sure this is something he should be seeing, in fact he is fairly certain that this is something he should avoid-- he should turn around and walk back into the room with Adam or go outside and head straight for the stage, find Jon and occupy himself for the next few hours. He should definitely walk the other way, but now, now his curiosity is getting the better of him.
He leaves the room, walks to the end of the hall as quietly as he can and notices that the door is slightly ajar. But then, they probably didn't have time to make sure it was closed.
From the door he can see them, but barely. They've both thrown their shirts in a pile on one of the stiff, wooden chairs they sat on today during lunch. Their shoes have been kicked off, jeans are being unbuttoned and pulled down by eager hands, anxious arms; neither one of them were wearing socks to begin with. Mike lifts William off his feet and sets him down on the table, a low, rickety, wooden death trap that could barely support the weight of the Subway they ordered earlier.
Much giggling ensues.
William may be taller but it is no secret and certainly no surprise that Mike is stronger. William's legs are dangling on either side of Mike, and Tom wonders if what he thinks is going to happen is really going to happen because it can't, right? Random hook ups between the lead singer and guitarist of your band right before a show, in an unlocked room where anyone could stroll right in-- that shit just doesn't happen in real life. Tom should flee the scene and forget he ever saw any of this, but William leans forward and looks like he might say something important.
Against his better judgement, Tom moves closer to the door and listens intently. William's voice is a soft hiss of breathy jumbled syllables, his lips pressed against Mike's neck, but Tom can't hear any of his words clearly. They mean something though, because Mike and William both smirk mischievously and start to undress further and completely.
Tom decides that now is a good time to look away. It's not like he hasn't seen them both naked before. He couldn't count the number of times either one of them has been drunk and decided to get undressed for the fun of it. He distinctly remembers the tour with Midtown; the amount of nudity after those shows is still astounding. It's just that this is a different kind of naked. This is an intimate kind of naked, the kind that isn't supposed to be seen, this is the most exposed Mike and William will ever be.
At least, Tom thinks, at least now he gets it. It's as if their entire lives suddenly make sense for the first time. Now he knows what they are doing when they disappear together. Now he knows why William will have bruises on his wrists, on his hips and his thighs and will continuously claim that jumping into the crowd is brutal, why Mike will have scratches on his back and teeth marks in his neck and shrug it off as groupies but never actually brings anyone back with him. Now he understands why they always share rooms in hotels, why they always sleep close to each other in the van, and maybe even why they never seem to mind that their apartment only has one room.
Now he understands why when he and Mike disagree on something, William will take a moment to be kind, but will always side with Mike.
It's completely unfair, now that he thinks about it; Mike only gets special privileges because they're fucking.
Tom is brought back to the situation at hand when William lets out a loud, "Fuck," and follows it up with, "Harder, Mike, fuck me harder." They are being so loud, Tom wonders how they haven't ever been found out before. Then he thinks, maybe they have, maybe he's the last person in on the joke.
He looks into the room again, bravely, though in the back of his mind something is saying that he really should go now.
Mike is holding William's hips down, pulling him closer and thrusting into him steadily, clutching his sides tighter than necessary, and Tom wants to point out that William bruises like a peach. He's going to have Mike's fingertips pressed into his skin for days after this and Mike really should be more considerate but William is loving it, grinding against him with every push forward.
William is panting out a stream of disjointed words about how deep Mike is, and he's holding onto the side of the table as it sways dangerously. His other hand is quite busy, working himself hard and fast, his fingers slick and sliding up and down vigorously. He doesn't stop, it seems jerking himself off is just as important as everything else, but he lets go of the table and props himself up on his elbow, leaning forward to kiss Mike roughly on the mouth.
Mike pushes William back down and swats away his hand, letting his own take its place. William is painfully hard and frantically jerking forward into Mike's fist, he brings a hand up to wipe his mouth-- his lip is bleeding slightly-- and he lets his arms fall limp at his sides, closes his eyes and fails at moaning quietly.
Mike leans down and licks at William's hips, sucks on the skin just below his ribs but doesn't stop fucking him, doesn't even miss a beat. William's back is perfectly arched, a bridge under which there is nothing but still air and his arms struggling to find something to hold on to.
Tom thinks, there is nothing more graceful than William Beckett. The way his legs are tangled behind Mike's back, long and thin, his toes curling with pleasure, sliding up and down Mike's thighs, the muscles in his arms tight and tense, flexed as he grips the old wood to steady himself. His chest is lean and stretched out, glistening in the dim light with sweat that has covered both of their bodies, his head and shoulder blades pressed into the table but his back raised and trembling.
There is nothing more graceful than William Beckett. The way his eyes are closed, his lips swollen and moist, his nose and his silly chin completing the perfect silhouette. And, Tom notes, there is nothing more fragile.
Mike reaches his free arm around William's body and pulls him up so that he's sitting, pulls him so close he is forced to stop jerking William off, but there isn't any protest. William is now quiet and demure, his eyes completely closed and a gentle smile slowly creeping to his lips. He just drapes his arms over Mike's shoulders, rests his head in the crook of Mike's neck and kisses his shoulder softly. Mike wraps his arms around William's small body, traces circles on his back and slows his pace, but doesn't stop.
Tom thinks, this is different, and somewhere else in his brain he thinks, leave now, this is different, this is important. Maybe their secret meetings aren't so random after all, maybe it isn't just about the sex.
Maybe, he thinks, as they press their foreheads together and Mike whispers something that may or may not be I love you, that he still doesn't understand.
Now he knows he shouldn't have seen any of this. It wasn't for his eyes, or anyone else's, and as he turns to walk back to the room Adam was in, he decides that he won't mention it to anyone. He'll never understand Mike and William, with or without knowing that they're together like this, with or without having seen everything that he did. He'll never understand how they can be so close and then pretend that they're not-- if it was him, he would never want to hide it.
He walks as quietly as he can down the hallway but decides not to go back to that room, instead he goes right out to the stage and finds Jon and they take a walk that lasts two hours. When they get back to the venue, cold and covered in snowflakes, Andy decides they should all go out for an early dinner so they load up in the van and head to the least seedy looking restaurant in the vicinity.
Tom sits on the left of Mike and William, who don't talk to each other the whole drive, but are completely interested in everyone else. He wants them to do something other than completely ignore each other, but he still doesn't understand it, so he says nothing.
Jon turns around from the front passenger seat, says, "Smile," and snaps a picture of them. Mike complains that he's now gone blind and William joins Adam in making fun of him, while idly pulling his jacket over the bruises on his wrists.
--
the "old taking back sunday b-side" is follow the format, which is what the butcher plays in that new year's video that i can't find on youtube :[ robert, ned, matt, taylor and louis are from rooney, of course.
i've decided not to make the promise of a friday update from now on. friday is my only day off, so i always expect i will be alright with updating then, but my weekends suck so when friday rolls around all i want to do is sleep to prepare for long, busy days. this week was all new classes and family members visiting and A TYPHOON so ha ha, sorry this is so late.
photo from theacademyis.com: february twenty-sixth, two thousand and six