Acquiesce (1/1)
Title: Acquiesce
Author: elizabeth21r
Pairing(s): Tom/Bill, Bill/OMC, Tom/OFC
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author's notes: I haven't written in years so this might make no sense at all. Inspired by Oasis songs and my sad, sad thoughts. A million thanks to macfrosty who looked through this mess for me. I really appreciate it very much.
Summary: Tom registers this moment, keeps it clean and clear in his memory and hopes that he can always come back to it when he needs a reminder of why he’s doing what he’s doing.
Don't be ashamed of your bones and your blisters
Come on, come on my brothers and sisters
You can only be what you are
And you've got the heart of a star
So be all you can and just hold up your hands
--
Bill is startled awake, his breath catching in his throat.
A heavy, burning sensation all over his stomach is the only thing disturbing his otherwise calm surroundings. The room is dark and too chilly; the cold of the night slithers through the tiny opening in the window. A rush of panic overcomes him, spreading the awful feeling from his stomach to the rest of his body. The window is barely open, a teeny tiny crack, but if someone was to climb at their window, someone was dumb enough to look with a prying eye right through that crack...
Bill swallows with difficulty, his throat barely able to register the command.
He feels his brother's warm body getting closer - how much more closer? - to him; Tom moves across the bed and brings their bodies to full contact, as if he could somehow sense that Bill is awake even though he’s only barely moved his eyelids. Tom's arms tighten on his skin and Bill doesn't think for a while, he blocks all the scary thoughts and words that appear to only visit him in the middle of the night, in his temporary rooms. The warmth, the feeling of security that's emitting from his brother, they're enough to keep him warm, to protect him from the cold that creeps inside through the slightly open window, the window they have to leave open so that they won't have to breathe their sin all night.
Bill's breathing quickens and the mattress stings on his skin, his brother’s touch feels alien on him and he shuts his eyes because he knows what's going to happen soon. No matter how much he doesn't want it or understand it, the awful feeling, the alarming thoughts, his fast heartbeat, the damn window, Tom next to him, everything is suffocating him and for a small moment he considers staying right where he is, he considers leaving his body helpless and let his throat shut itself. What better way for a rockstar to go than killing himself in his hotel room?
His eyes start to water from trying to breathe, or maybe not breathe, and he barely turns his head to the left where he meets his brother's face, his serene face, his barely parted lips, his long neck, his naked body.
Frowning, Bill gets off the bed as silently as he can through his panic and drags his feet on the floor. They collide with scattered clothes and shoes on the floor while he walks to the bathroom and locks the door. Once inside, he grabs the basin hard and turns the faucet, splashing water on his pale face - the night not dark enough to cover his colorless skin. Bill feels as if he's looking at someone he doesn't know in that mirror and lowers his eyes, his grip on the porcelain basin becomes bruising. One, two, three breaths and his eyes land on Tom's underwear on the floor, the ripped condom wrapper, and before he even has a second to think about it, he finds himself bent over the toilet, throwing up.
A couple of minutes and a good amount of Listerine later, Bill returns to the room and looks at the bed, exactly as he left it. Tom keeps sleeping soundly and Bill feels jealous yet admires him at the same time, and a new wave of something spreads inside him; a warm wave, not a scorching one, a wave that's pleasant deep down, as hard and terrifying as the sick one he just threw up, but so much more important.
He takes a deep breath and feels his skin shiver, takes two steps to the window and completely shuts it. The paranoia that washed over him only a couple of minutes before, it all seems so funny now that he's looking the streets from above, was it the eighth? Ninth floor? He can't even understand why his mind gets all these crazy thoughts during all his panic. He can't understand.
He sighs and turns to the room again. Moving silently but quickly, he grabs his clothes and shoes, puts them on and tentatively walks outside, almost running to the door of his own room.
~~
"Has anyone seen Bill?"
His question remains unanswered one more time and Tom is losing his patience. They're at the backstage of a venue they're supposed to play tonight and even though there's still plenty of time before they have to be on stage, the crowd is screaming steadily already, the voices echo everywhere and it's enough to place a stressing noose around his neck. And if that wasn't enough, Bill is not even there to share it with him.
"I'm sure he'll be here any time," someone comments - was it a bandmate? A crew member? He doesn't know, and Tom snorts loudly enough for everyone to hear.
"Like he could do otherwise," he says as a warning and strums the strings of his guitar some more, the sound loud enough, stressful enough that it makes Gustav wince from across the room. "Whatever, I'm going for a smoke," he murmurs and protectively leaves his guitar on the couch before he gets on his feet, grabs the first cigarette pack he sees and walks to the back of the venue.
In the long hallway, he passes people from their crew, people he's polite enough to greet and once he's almost at the exit door, he realizes he doesn't have a lighter. He swears and turns his head towards a technician at the far end of the hallway. "Hey, do you happen to have a lighter?" he shouts, the man nods and a couple of second later throws a small yellow lighter his way. Tom's eyes fall on the window when he catches it, and he sees his brother.
He sees Bill across the street, in a car that Tom doesn't recognize, with a man Tom hasn't seen before and even through the big sunglasses that cover Bill’s eyes, Tom could read his brother's body language from miles away. And even if he couldn't, the man's grip on his brother's thigh, his cheeky smile, even worse the hot kiss they share is enough for Tom to take the message.
He clenches his jaw and lowers his eyes because he's not a teenage boy, he knows he's jealous while he shouldn't be, but that doesn't mean he should be seeing all this. When Bill gets out of the car and walks to the stadium, Tom reminds himself the original reason of his anger with Bill - the only reason, he tells himself - and walks to the door again while Bill's hands open it.
"Where the hell have you been?" Tom demands and Bill walks calmly, maybe too calmly, almost in a satisfied way towards him. He travels his hands to Tom's waist and the older twin takes a step back, touching the wall behind him.
"Come on now Tom," Bill frowns, bringing their bodies closer. "What? Did you think I wouldn't show up or something?"
"People can see," Tom whispers and turns his head towards the hallway. The empty hallway.
"No one can see, and we're not even doing anything," Bill humors him and slowly caresses his brother, Tom can't really feel where because it feels like it's everywhere. "Gimme a kiss?"
Tom knows that Bill is just playing with him right then, that he's just trying to freak him out; that he's in a good mood because he obviously got satisfied pretty recently and he knows Tom won't do it. This is why Tom leans towards Bill and leaves a small, gentle kiss on his brother’s lips. It's truly a small one but the way Bill loses his breath, startled as he is, it makes Tom feel good, satisfied that he can make Bill lose his breath in such a positive way.
Bill lowers his eyes, he looks a bit shy, Tom likes to think. "You need to stop doing this shit," he says gently, and for a second he's not sure if he means his brother being late or fucking around. "You being late stresses everyone," he adds and frees himself from his brother's grip relatively easy. He walks to the door again and before Bill gets a chance to answer, to assume that Tom is leaving for another deeper unknown reason, Tom raises his hand with the cigarette pack in it - with Georg's cigarette pack, it turns out - just to be clear.
He steps outside and takes a big, shaky breath.
--
Bill is out of breath by the time he flops on the couch next to his brother. The music is unbearably loud and the drinks flow endlessly. He's not yet completely wasted, but he's getting there
"Seems like someone's having fun." Tom retorts, teasing him, and Bill beams. He could feel his brother's eyes on his body while he danced his heart out; he knows Tom was watching closely so he made extra effort to look sexy.
Tom turns towards him and smiles sweetly, brings his hand towards his face and Bill freezes for a moment, terrified that his brother is going to run his hand down his face and caress him in public, but Tom just moves a lock of hair out of Bill's sweaty face and retreats his hand fast.
"Finally got the drinks," Bill barely registers the - now familiar - male voice next to them, and a glass of some cocktail he doesn't care about presents itself right in front of him. He glances up and sees this stranger's face, the familiar stranger he lets in his bed, in his body, in his life and it makes him nauseous in a way, and he knows it shouldn't. He smiles hesitantly towards him, because it's not the stranger's fault that he's fucked up, and accepts the drink. He suddenly feels way too sober and wants to immediately drink the whole thing but then he'd be too wasted and he knows he shouldn't.
But he really shouldn't be doing a lot of other things too.
Giving the stranger a pat on the knee, he turns towards his brother on his left and draws him impossibly close, and Tom looks almost alarmed, almost like he didn't know it was coming. "Tom," he moans and licks his brother's ear. "Wanna take me back to the hotel? Hmm?"
Bill feels his brother shiver and a gentle nudge, driving him away. "Bill, what the fuck?" Tom says, bringing his face close to Bill's and nodding towards the stranger's way, who doesn't seem to notice anything.
Bill turns towards him too and suppresses the guilt and shame of doing this, of taking advantage of the guy and letting the guy take advantage of him, before he leans forward and takes a large gulp of his drink. "Don't give a shit," he shouts towards his brother. "What do you say?"
"Bill, no." Tom shakes his head, retreats and tries to avoid Bill's hands all over him. "Seriously, stop this, you were terrified I was gonna touch you a minute ago and now you're jumping me?"
"What are you talking about," Bill smiles and his tone is dismissive, like he knows but just doesn't want to talk about it and he leans forward again, grabs Tom's neck. "I'll suck you," he slurs seductively in his ear again. "I'll suck you real good."
Tom really pushes him this time, not enough to draw attention but enough to startle Bill, shake him up. "Shut up," he says and Bill frowns. "I said no. Go back to what you were doing."
Bill clenches his fists and glares at his brother hard, his nostrils flare but he doesn't say a thing. He feels the stranger's hand tugging his sleeve and turns towards him, lets him whisper something to him. Bill hates himself for a few moments, hates what he'd just suggested, hates that he still wanted it even though he knew better, but most of all he hates Tom for not giving it to him.
He doesn't even listen to a word that's spoken to him, but turns his head towards Tom again, pierces him with angry eyes and grabs his glass dramatically, downs his drink and grabs the stranger's arm. They both get up and Bill makes sure their skins are touching as much as possible when he barely takes a step before stumbling. The stranger's hands are firm on his waist, and Tom's eyes lock with his.
"Yeah, we're off," he shouts and points to the door. He hopes for a word, a disappointed look, a frown, but he gets nothing. Suddenly, he's not so ashamed anymore. All he wants is some good sex that will satisfy him and won't make him want to die a couple of hours later and Tom is clearly on board with that, so why shouldn't he do it?
Tom lowers his eyes to his drink and Bill smirks. He's not going to feel guilty tonight.
--
The glass of wine in his hand is quite extraordinary, Tom decides, as he takes a sip of it and savors its taste. The drinks are almost always good in formal events like this, which was one of the few reasons he'd agreed to come. He didn't feel like sharing another night out with his brother but after David's pleading tone and his words of how important tonight was for them, he couldn't say no. He knew he didn't have to talk to anyone - that was his manager's job - and he especially didn't want to talk to Bill, so he felt free to roam and enjoy a few good drinks before he had to go.
Oh and maybe score somewhere in between.
"You seem to enjoy that a bit too much," the brunette in front of him smiles, and Tom nods while swallowing his sip.
"It is exquisite," he admits, and points to her glass. "Want me to get you some?"
"Oh no, I don't drink," she says, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Unless you want me tipsy for some reason?" she grins and Tom feels her leg rub against his under the bar. He smirks and licks his lower lip, toying with his piercing and sucking it in his mouth for a moment.
She's pretty. Really pretty, and obviously available, judging by her eyes lingering on his mouth and the momentary stillness of her rubbing. She also seems kinda classy, not like the ordinary groupie, which makes it almost a challenge. Sex with her would almost be an accomplishment and it hasn't been like that for a while.
He's almost ready to lean in and answer something cheesy but dirty at the same time, when he feels someone poking his arm. He turns to his left and Bill stands tall next to him, a couple of inches taller than usual in high-heeled boots and the fact that Tom is seated on a stool. "What?" he snaps.
"Can I talk to you?" Bill asks lowly, his eyes taking the brunette's appearance for a couple of seconds before landing on Tom's brown eyes again.
"No," Tom replies immediately, because he knows Bill is trying to cockblock him but that's just not going to happen.
"Tom," Bill tries again and Tom ignores him, leans towards the woman and whispers something to her, something that makes her almost blush. They both stand and Tom casts a quick glance towards his brother, says "We're off," in a familiar way that stings Bill and he almost grabs his brother's arm to stop him but the brunette beats him to it.
"Wait a minute," she says, and stops. "Is this your brother?" she asks, her eyes glued on Bill. Tom nods and she extends her hand towards Bill. The younger twin just looks at it for a moment before hesitantly shaking it. "I love your style," she says and mentions her name somewhere in between but Tom really doesn't listen, he just wants to go.
"Do you even have condoms or are you just gonna fuck her like that?" Bill demands and Tom glares hard at him while she retreats her hand confused. Bill doesn't break the eye contact and Tom swallows and his throat is dry.
"You'll have to excuse my little brother," he tells her, smiling politely. "He can't quite control his mouth when he's drinking."
"Oh I'm not fucking drunk," Bill exclaims, his tone alone is loud enough to prove him wrong.
"Bill, shut it," Tom warns him, almost panicking for a second when Bill approaches him.
"I'll prove it to you right now," he starts, and when Tom sees Bill lean towards his face he immediately grabs his hands and turns him around.
"Alight fine, no need to fucking smell your breath!" he almost shouts, as if to convince everyone who might've seen them that this was what Bill tried to do. "I'll be right back, yeah?" he turns to the brunette and she nods.
It only takes them a few seconds to reach the closest bathroom and Bill's cooperation frustrates Tom even more, which is why his grip on his brother's arm is meant to bruise. Once they're in, he shoves his brother a few steps away and slams the door shut, turning the lock on it.
He takes a moment to breathe and not slam his fist on his brother's face when he turns around and faces him. Instead he brings his hand on his face and rubs his temple, his eyebrows. "What the fuck, Bill?" he tries, and turns around slowly. "What the fuck do you want from me?"
Bill looks like a child, a very pretty child with freakishly long legs and a pair of eyes full of some feeling that Tom can't and doesn't want to read. He looks much more hesitant and scared and retreated in the bright bathroom light. "I don't want you to fuck her," he mumbles but doesn't look away from Tom's face.
"Well fuck off!" Tom shouts and takes a step towards his brother, shoves him again. "Seriously, fuck off," he says again, pronounces each word loud and clear. "What is this, some sick game you like to play? I'm not yours, Bill, we're not a couple. Don't make this into something more than what it is."
"But what is this to you?" Bill asks, his tone soft and confused and Tom tries his hardest not to blow up. This is so unfair, a voice keeps repeating in his head.
"Totally unfair," he tells Bill, following his thoughts. "That you're asking me to define this, as if you've got the answer. You think I'm stupid, Bill? That I don't know how confused you truly are? That I'm asleep every night we fuck and you end up throwing up in the fucking bathroom?" he spits the last words like venom and Bill lowers his eyes, ashamed. "You can't have it both ways, alright? You can't fuck whoever you want and then demand I won't do the same and then..." he swallows. "Make me feel like shit over and over again."
"I just..." Bill interrupts, earning a glare from Tom. He sighs and looks back up. "I just want to know how you feel."
Tom groans and throws his hands on his sides, defeated. "What is this, fifth grade? I'm not a girl and neither are you, we both know that's not your concern. You know how I feel. I don't need to say it as if the words matter." He walks towards Bill and gingerly touches his shoulder, feels him flinch. "You need to sort this out and I don't want to be causing you any kind of trouble. Don't expect me to just sit here and enjoy your little stunts though. Grow up and let it go."
And eventually, Bill will have to let him go.
---
It's late on a Saturday night that Bill hears the knock on his door, the familiar knock he'd been expecting much, much sooner. He tries not to appear too eager when he opens it but Tom looks a little sheepish as he walks in the room, ducking his head. Bill closes the door behind him and leans back to it, tries not to smile because it's not that big of a deal and his brother's appearance shouldn't cause him such euphoria, but it does.
"Hey," he greets him and Tom looks up and gives him a half-smile. Bill walks towards him and reaches his hand out, Tom meeting him half way. "I'm sorry," he says and tugs him close.
Tom doesn't bring any kind of resistance. "Don't be. Don't apologize," he says, getting closer to Bill. "It's not your fault you feel that way, I just want you to... sort it out I guess."
Bill wraps his arms around Tom's waist and brings their faces close. "No, I... I'm sorry for being a dick, and a cockblock," he admits shyly. "It's not your fault either that I... felt that way. I shouldn’t have pushed you."
Tom brings his body close to Bill's and hugs him, kissing his forehead. "I'm alright now," Bill says, his face pressed against Tom's sweater, his voice muffled. "I sorted it out," he adds and looks up into his brother's eyes, wishing, hoping, pleading inside that he will believe it, that he will see how much Bill needs this, how desperate he is; that he's willing to lie about it and do it again and again even though it makes him sick and he might end up sick of Tom too in the end.
And Tom just nods and brings their mouths close and touches his brother all over, makes him complete and takes everything Bill has to offer, even if he knows it's all bullshit.
So later, much later, when Bill is once again hurting his knees as he's bent over the toilet in another bathroom relieving his burning insides, he feels Tom's hands on his neck, feels him hold his hair and he knows that Tom always has and always will see through him, and Tom's disappointed, sad eyes as he leaves the room without a word hurt him more than throwing up does.
---
Tom feels his brother sit next to him on the concrete steps outside some other venue. He passes Bill a cigarette and he takes it with a quick 'thanks', lights it up and breathes it deeply, exhales some of the smoke through his nose. Tom doesn't know if he's supposed to say something or just stay there in silence until Bill's done his thing and leaves.
A few moments of seemingly comfortable silence pass until Bill breaks it with a hoarse voice. "I don't know why it happens," he starts, and Tom wonders if he wants to hear it. "Not that it matters, just thought I'd let you know."
"It really doesn't matter to me," Tom admits and his voice is maybe sharper than it should've been but he can't help it. He's not mad at Bill but he's angry and there's no need to hide the elephant in the room. Or outside the room. Or something.
"What should matter, and what you should know is that it's not your fault," Bill speaks up again, between drags of his cigarette. "Alright?" he asks, finally looking at him
Tom doesn't think it's alright. "Maybe not my fault but I'm for sure a big part of it," he retorts and crushes his cigarette with his shoe, ready to get up and leave because he doesn't want to talk about it, which is why he'd never brought it up for so long.
"Tom," Bill grabs his arm and tags him down, doesn't let him escape. "I want you to know it, okay? If that makes me an immature girl in your eyes then fine, but I want to talk about this just so I can have a clear conscience. What we do is... very important to me. It's not just that I like it or I enjoy it, it's not just the sex," he says, pausing for a moment. "Yeah the sex is awesome. But this is not why we're doing this, right?" he asks, and Tom nods. "You mean so much to me and I cannot thank you enough for everything you do for me, for being here," Bill adds, and squeezes Tom's arm in his hand. "I have no idea what I'd do if you weren't here with me and I need you to know how much I appreciate the fact that you are who you are."
Tom is taken aback by his brother's honesty, by how straight-forward he is and he really doesn't know what to do or say. "Same goes for you, you know," he mumbles and holds Bill's hand in return.
"I don't want you to say anything if you don't feel like it," Bill smiles, taking the last drag of his cigarette and tossing it on the pavement in front of them. "I'm not the one having doubts."
"I don't have doubts," Tom denies frowning, he looks at Bill in a way that says 'what-are-you-talking-about?'.
"It's alright, I'd feel the same way if you were doing what I've been doing. I still want you to know it's out of my control. The... sickness thing," Bill clarifies. "Me being an idiot is another thing," he adds, smiles a bit more easily and comes closer and Tom can smell his shampoo and his cologne and the cigarette in his breath. "You're not mad, are you?"
"Not mad," Tom says, licks his lips and looks at Bill's. "I wasn't ever mad about that."
Bill smiles wide then, and wraps his arms around Tom's neck. "Good," he comments, and kisses his cheek. "You're all I need, alright? Don't ever doubt that. Everything else is just...nonsense."
Tom wants to comment that nothing regarding his brother's health can ever be just "nonsense", but he feels Bill wouldn't appreciate it. So he just quickly kisses Bill on the cheek, ruffles his hair affectionately and stands up, easing his brother up with him. "Let's go be rockstars for now, yeah?"
Bill grins mischievously and that's all Tom needs. His brother to be happy, next to him. To make him happy, make him not worry about a thing, be the strength Bill sometimes needs when things get too stressful. Not because Bill is weaker, but because that’s what big brothers do. They take care of their younger and give them everything they need to be happy, not some burning, sick feeling in their stomach. Not an unbearable shame.
But Tom doesn’t hold all the answers. He needs to trust Bill, trust his words, and believe that what they do, who they are, isn’t hurting him, that Bill has the strength to beat whatever’s staining his soul. And even if he doesn’t beat it, he needs his brother to know that it’s alright to walk away if the walls come down. When the walls come down.
Bill squeezes his hand gently as they walk back inside. Tom registers this moment, keeps it clean and clear in his memory and hopes that he can always come back to it when he needs a reminder of why he’s doing what he’s doing.
For now, he can only hope.
Author: elizabeth21r
Pairing(s): Tom/Bill, Bill/OMC, Tom/OFC
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author's notes: I haven't written in years so this might make no sense at all. Inspired by Oasis songs and my sad, sad thoughts. A million thanks to macfrosty who looked through this mess for me. I really appreciate it very much.
Summary: Tom registers this moment, keeps it clean and clear in his memory and hopes that he can always come back to it when he needs a reminder of why he’s doing what he’s doing.
Don't be ashamed of your bones and your blisters
Come on, come on my brothers and sisters
You can only be what you are
And you've got the heart of a star
So be all you can and just hold up your hands
--
Bill is startled awake, his breath catching in his throat.
A heavy, burning sensation all over his stomach is the only thing disturbing his otherwise calm surroundings. The room is dark and too chilly; the cold of the night slithers through the tiny opening in the window. A rush of panic overcomes him, spreading the awful feeling from his stomach to the rest of his body. The window is barely open, a teeny tiny crack, but if someone was to climb at their window, someone was dumb enough to look with a prying eye right through that crack...
Bill swallows with difficulty, his throat barely able to register the command.
He feels his brother's warm body getting closer - how much more closer? - to him; Tom moves across the bed and brings their bodies to full contact, as if he could somehow sense that Bill is awake even though he’s only barely moved his eyelids. Tom's arms tighten on his skin and Bill doesn't think for a while, he blocks all the scary thoughts and words that appear to only visit him in the middle of the night, in his temporary rooms. The warmth, the feeling of security that's emitting from his brother, they're enough to keep him warm, to protect him from the cold that creeps inside through the slightly open window, the window they have to leave open so that they won't have to breathe their sin all night.
Bill's breathing quickens and the mattress stings on his skin, his brother’s touch feels alien on him and he shuts his eyes because he knows what's going to happen soon. No matter how much he doesn't want it or understand it, the awful feeling, the alarming thoughts, his fast heartbeat, the damn window, Tom next to him, everything is suffocating him and for a small moment he considers staying right where he is, he considers leaving his body helpless and let his throat shut itself. What better way for a rockstar to go than killing himself in his hotel room?
His eyes start to water from trying to breathe, or maybe not breathe, and he barely turns his head to the left where he meets his brother's face, his serene face, his barely parted lips, his long neck, his naked body.
Frowning, Bill gets off the bed as silently as he can through his panic and drags his feet on the floor. They collide with scattered clothes and shoes on the floor while he walks to the bathroom and locks the door. Once inside, he grabs the basin hard and turns the faucet, splashing water on his pale face - the night not dark enough to cover his colorless skin. Bill feels as if he's looking at someone he doesn't know in that mirror and lowers his eyes, his grip on the porcelain basin becomes bruising. One, two, three breaths and his eyes land on Tom's underwear on the floor, the ripped condom wrapper, and before he even has a second to think about it, he finds himself bent over the toilet, throwing up.
A couple of minutes and a good amount of Listerine later, Bill returns to the room and looks at the bed, exactly as he left it. Tom keeps sleeping soundly and Bill feels jealous yet admires him at the same time, and a new wave of something spreads inside him; a warm wave, not a scorching one, a wave that's pleasant deep down, as hard and terrifying as the sick one he just threw up, but so much more important.
He takes a deep breath and feels his skin shiver, takes two steps to the window and completely shuts it. The paranoia that washed over him only a couple of minutes before, it all seems so funny now that he's looking the streets from above, was it the eighth? Ninth floor? He can't even understand why his mind gets all these crazy thoughts during all his panic. He can't understand.
He sighs and turns to the room again. Moving silently but quickly, he grabs his clothes and shoes, puts them on and tentatively walks outside, almost running to the door of his own room.
~~
"Has anyone seen Bill?"
His question remains unanswered one more time and Tom is losing his patience. They're at the backstage of a venue they're supposed to play tonight and even though there's still plenty of time before they have to be on stage, the crowd is screaming steadily already, the voices echo everywhere and it's enough to place a stressing noose around his neck. And if that wasn't enough, Bill is not even there to share it with him.
"I'm sure he'll be here any time," someone comments - was it a bandmate? A crew member? He doesn't know, and Tom snorts loudly enough for everyone to hear.
"Like he could do otherwise," he says as a warning and strums the strings of his guitar some more, the sound loud enough, stressful enough that it makes Gustav wince from across the room. "Whatever, I'm going for a smoke," he murmurs and protectively leaves his guitar on the couch before he gets on his feet, grabs the first cigarette pack he sees and walks to the back of the venue.
In the long hallway, he passes people from their crew, people he's polite enough to greet and once he's almost at the exit door, he realizes he doesn't have a lighter. He swears and turns his head towards a technician at the far end of the hallway. "Hey, do you happen to have a lighter?" he shouts, the man nods and a couple of second later throws a small yellow lighter his way. Tom's eyes fall on the window when he catches it, and he sees his brother.
He sees Bill across the street, in a car that Tom doesn't recognize, with a man Tom hasn't seen before and even through the big sunglasses that cover Bill’s eyes, Tom could read his brother's body language from miles away. And even if he couldn't, the man's grip on his brother's thigh, his cheeky smile, even worse the hot kiss they share is enough for Tom to take the message.
He clenches his jaw and lowers his eyes because he's not a teenage boy, he knows he's jealous while he shouldn't be, but that doesn't mean he should be seeing all this. When Bill gets out of the car and walks to the stadium, Tom reminds himself the original reason of his anger with Bill - the only reason, he tells himself - and walks to the door again while Bill's hands open it.
"Where the hell have you been?" Tom demands and Bill walks calmly, maybe too calmly, almost in a satisfied way towards him. He travels his hands to Tom's waist and the older twin takes a step back, touching the wall behind him.
"Come on now Tom," Bill frowns, bringing their bodies closer. "What? Did you think I wouldn't show up or something?"
"People can see," Tom whispers and turns his head towards the hallway. The empty hallway.
"No one can see, and we're not even doing anything," Bill humors him and slowly caresses his brother, Tom can't really feel where because it feels like it's everywhere. "Gimme a kiss?"
Tom knows that Bill is just playing with him right then, that he's just trying to freak him out; that he's in a good mood because he obviously got satisfied pretty recently and he knows Tom won't do it. This is why Tom leans towards Bill and leaves a small, gentle kiss on his brother’s lips. It's truly a small one but the way Bill loses his breath, startled as he is, it makes Tom feel good, satisfied that he can make Bill lose his breath in such a positive way.
Bill lowers his eyes, he looks a bit shy, Tom likes to think. "You need to stop doing this shit," he says gently, and for a second he's not sure if he means his brother being late or fucking around. "You being late stresses everyone," he adds and frees himself from his brother's grip relatively easy. He walks to the door again and before Bill gets a chance to answer, to assume that Tom is leaving for another deeper unknown reason, Tom raises his hand with the cigarette pack in it - with Georg's cigarette pack, it turns out - just to be clear.
He steps outside and takes a big, shaky breath.
--
Bill is out of breath by the time he flops on the couch next to his brother. The music is unbearably loud and the drinks flow endlessly. He's not yet completely wasted, but he's getting there
"Seems like someone's having fun." Tom retorts, teasing him, and Bill beams. He could feel his brother's eyes on his body while he danced his heart out; he knows Tom was watching closely so he made extra effort to look sexy.
Tom turns towards him and smiles sweetly, brings his hand towards his face and Bill freezes for a moment, terrified that his brother is going to run his hand down his face and caress him in public, but Tom just moves a lock of hair out of Bill's sweaty face and retreats his hand fast.
"Finally got the drinks," Bill barely registers the - now familiar - male voice next to them, and a glass of some cocktail he doesn't care about presents itself right in front of him. He glances up and sees this stranger's face, the familiar stranger he lets in his bed, in his body, in his life and it makes him nauseous in a way, and he knows it shouldn't. He smiles hesitantly towards him, because it's not the stranger's fault that he's fucked up, and accepts the drink. He suddenly feels way too sober and wants to immediately drink the whole thing but then he'd be too wasted and he knows he shouldn't.
But he really shouldn't be doing a lot of other things too.
Giving the stranger a pat on the knee, he turns towards his brother on his left and draws him impossibly close, and Tom looks almost alarmed, almost like he didn't know it was coming. "Tom," he moans and licks his brother's ear. "Wanna take me back to the hotel? Hmm?"
Bill feels his brother shiver and a gentle nudge, driving him away. "Bill, what the fuck?" Tom says, bringing his face close to Bill's and nodding towards the stranger's way, who doesn't seem to notice anything.
Bill turns towards him too and suppresses the guilt and shame of doing this, of taking advantage of the guy and letting the guy take advantage of him, before he leans forward and takes a large gulp of his drink. "Don't give a shit," he shouts towards his brother. "What do you say?"
"Bill, no." Tom shakes his head, retreats and tries to avoid Bill's hands all over him. "Seriously, stop this, you were terrified I was gonna touch you a minute ago and now you're jumping me?"
"What are you talking about," Bill smiles and his tone is dismissive, like he knows but just doesn't want to talk about it and he leans forward again, grabs Tom's neck. "I'll suck you," he slurs seductively in his ear again. "I'll suck you real good."
Tom really pushes him this time, not enough to draw attention but enough to startle Bill, shake him up. "Shut up," he says and Bill frowns. "I said no. Go back to what you were doing."
Bill clenches his fists and glares at his brother hard, his nostrils flare but he doesn't say a thing. He feels the stranger's hand tugging his sleeve and turns towards him, lets him whisper something to him. Bill hates himself for a few moments, hates what he'd just suggested, hates that he still wanted it even though he knew better, but most of all he hates Tom for not giving it to him.
He doesn't even listen to a word that's spoken to him, but turns his head towards Tom again, pierces him with angry eyes and grabs his glass dramatically, downs his drink and grabs the stranger's arm. They both get up and Bill makes sure their skins are touching as much as possible when he barely takes a step before stumbling. The stranger's hands are firm on his waist, and Tom's eyes lock with his.
"Yeah, we're off," he shouts and points to the door. He hopes for a word, a disappointed look, a frown, but he gets nothing. Suddenly, he's not so ashamed anymore. All he wants is some good sex that will satisfy him and won't make him want to die a couple of hours later and Tom is clearly on board with that, so why shouldn't he do it?
Tom lowers his eyes to his drink and Bill smirks. He's not going to feel guilty tonight.
--
The glass of wine in his hand is quite extraordinary, Tom decides, as he takes a sip of it and savors its taste. The drinks are almost always good in formal events like this, which was one of the few reasons he'd agreed to come. He didn't feel like sharing another night out with his brother but after David's pleading tone and his words of how important tonight was for them, he couldn't say no. He knew he didn't have to talk to anyone - that was his manager's job - and he especially didn't want to talk to Bill, so he felt free to roam and enjoy a few good drinks before he had to go.
Oh and maybe score somewhere in between.
"You seem to enjoy that a bit too much," the brunette in front of him smiles, and Tom nods while swallowing his sip.
"It is exquisite," he admits, and points to her glass. "Want me to get you some?"
"Oh no, I don't drink," she says, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Unless you want me tipsy for some reason?" she grins and Tom feels her leg rub against his under the bar. He smirks and licks his lower lip, toying with his piercing and sucking it in his mouth for a moment.
She's pretty. Really pretty, and obviously available, judging by her eyes lingering on his mouth and the momentary stillness of her rubbing. She also seems kinda classy, not like the ordinary groupie, which makes it almost a challenge. Sex with her would almost be an accomplishment and it hasn't been like that for a while.
He's almost ready to lean in and answer something cheesy but dirty at the same time, when he feels someone poking his arm. He turns to his left and Bill stands tall next to him, a couple of inches taller than usual in high-heeled boots and the fact that Tom is seated on a stool. "What?" he snaps.
"Can I talk to you?" Bill asks lowly, his eyes taking the brunette's appearance for a couple of seconds before landing on Tom's brown eyes again.
"No," Tom replies immediately, because he knows Bill is trying to cockblock him but that's just not going to happen.
"Tom," Bill tries again and Tom ignores him, leans towards the woman and whispers something to her, something that makes her almost blush. They both stand and Tom casts a quick glance towards his brother, says "We're off," in a familiar way that stings Bill and he almost grabs his brother's arm to stop him but the brunette beats him to it.
"Wait a minute," she says, and stops. "Is this your brother?" she asks, her eyes glued on Bill. Tom nods and she extends her hand towards Bill. The younger twin just looks at it for a moment before hesitantly shaking it. "I love your style," she says and mentions her name somewhere in between but Tom really doesn't listen, he just wants to go.
"Do you even have condoms or are you just gonna fuck her like that?" Bill demands and Tom glares hard at him while she retreats her hand confused. Bill doesn't break the eye contact and Tom swallows and his throat is dry.
"You'll have to excuse my little brother," he tells her, smiling politely. "He can't quite control his mouth when he's drinking."
"Oh I'm not fucking drunk," Bill exclaims, his tone alone is loud enough to prove him wrong.
"Bill, shut it," Tom warns him, almost panicking for a second when Bill approaches him.
"I'll prove it to you right now," he starts, and when Tom sees Bill lean towards his face he immediately grabs his hands and turns him around.
"Alight fine, no need to fucking smell your breath!" he almost shouts, as if to convince everyone who might've seen them that this was what Bill tried to do. "I'll be right back, yeah?" he turns to the brunette and she nods.
It only takes them a few seconds to reach the closest bathroom and Bill's cooperation frustrates Tom even more, which is why his grip on his brother's arm is meant to bruise. Once they're in, he shoves his brother a few steps away and slams the door shut, turning the lock on it.
He takes a moment to breathe and not slam his fist on his brother's face when he turns around and faces him. Instead he brings his hand on his face and rubs his temple, his eyebrows. "What the fuck, Bill?" he tries, and turns around slowly. "What the fuck do you want from me?"
Bill looks like a child, a very pretty child with freakishly long legs and a pair of eyes full of some feeling that Tom can't and doesn't want to read. He looks much more hesitant and scared and retreated in the bright bathroom light. "I don't want you to fuck her," he mumbles but doesn't look away from Tom's face.
"Well fuck off!" Tom shouts and takes a step towards his brother, shoves him again. "Seriously, fuck off," he says again, pronounces each word loud and clear. "What is this, some sick game you like to play? I'm not yours, Bill, we're not a couple. Don't make this into something more than what it is."
"But what is this to you?" Bill asks, his tone soft and confused and Tom tries his hardest not to blow up. This is so unfair, a voice keeps repeating in his head.
"Totally unfair," he tells Bill, following his thoughts. "That you're asking me to define this, as if you've got the answer. You think I'm stupid, Bill? That I don't know how confused you truly are? That I'm asleep every night we fuck and you end up throwing up in the fucking bathroom?" he spits the last words like venom and Bill lowers his eyes, ashamed. "You can't have it both ways, alright? You can't fuck whoever you want and then demand I won't do the same and then..." he swallows. "Make me feel like shit over and over again."
"I just..." Bill interrupts, earning a glare from Tom. He sighs and looks back up. "I just want to know how you feel."
Tom groans and throws his hands on his sides, defeated. "What is this, fifth grade? I'm not a girl and neither are you, we both know that's not your concern. You know how I feel. I don't need to say it as if the words matter." He walks towards Bill and gingerly touches his shoulder, feels him flinch. "You need to sort this out and I don't want to be causing you any kind of trouble. Don't expect me to just sit here and enjoy your little stunts though. Grow up and let it go."
And eventually, Bill will have to let him go.
---
It's late on a Saturday night that Bill hears the knock on his door, the familiar knock he'd been expecting much, much sooner. He tries not to appear too eager when he opens it but Tom looks a little sheepish as he walks in the room, ducking his head. Bill closes the door behind him and leans back to it, tries not to smile because it's not that big of a deal and his brother's appearance shouldn't cause him such euphoria, but it does.
"Hey," he greets him and Tom looks up and gives him a half-smile. Bill walks towards him and reaches his hand out, Tom meeting him half way. "I'm sorry," he says and tugs him close.
Tom doesn't bring any kind of resistance. "Don't be. Don't apologize," he says, getting closer to Bill. "It's not your fault you feel that way, I just want you to... sort it out I guess."
Bill wraps his arms around Tom's waist and brings their faces close. "No, I... I'm sorry for being a dick, and a cockblock," he admits shyly. "It's not your fault either that I... felt that way. I shouldn’t have pushed you."
Tom brings his body close to Bill's and hugs him, kissing his forehead. "I'm alright now," Bill says, his face pressed against Tom's sweater, his voice muffled. "I sorted it out," he adds and looks up into his brother's eyes, wishing, hoping, pleading inside that he will believe it, that he will see how much Bill needs this, how desperate he is; that he's willing to lie about it and do it again and again even though it makes him sick and he might end up sick of Tom too in the end.
And Tom just nods and brings their mouths close and touches his brother all over, makes him complete and takes everything Bill has to offer, even if he knows it's all bullshit.
So later, much later, when Bill is once again hurting his knees as he's bent over the toilet in another bathroom relieving his burning insides, he feels Tom's hands on his neck, feels him hold his hair and he knows that Tom always has and always will see through him, and Tom's disappointed, sad eyes as he leaves the room without a word hurt him more than throwing up does.
---
Tom feels his brother sit next to him on the concrete steps outside some other venue. He passes Bill a cigarette and he takes it with a quick 'thanks', lights it up and breathes it deeply, exhales some of the smoke through his nose. Tom doesn't know if he's supposed to say something or just stay there in silence until Bill's done his thing and leaves.
A few moments of seemingly comfortable silence pass until Bill breaks it with a hoarse voice. "I don't know why it happens," he starts, and Tom wonders if he wants to hear it. "Not that it matters, just thought I'd let you know."
"It really doesn't matter to me," Tom admits and his voice is maybe sharper than it should've been but he can't help it. He's not mad at Bill but he's angry and there's no need to hide the elephant in the room. Or outside the room. Or something.
"What should matter, and what you should know is that it's not your fault," Bill speaks up again, between drags of his cigarette. "Alright?" he asks, finally looking at him
Tom doesn't think it's alright. "Maybe not my fault but I'm for sure a big part of it," he retorts and crushes his cigarette with his shoe, ready to get up and leave because he doesn't want to talk about it, which is why he'd never brought it up for so long.
"Tom," Bill grabs his arm and tags him down, doesn't let him escape. "I want you to know it, okay? If that makes me an immature girl in your eyes then fine, but I want to talk about this just so I can have a clear conscience. What we do is... very important to me. It's not just that I like it or I enjoy it, it's not just the sex," he says, pausing for a moment. "Yeah the sex is awesome. But this is not why we're doing this, right?" he asks, and Tom nods. "You mean so much to me and I cannot thank you enough for everything you do for me, for being here," Bill adds, and squeezes Tom's arm in his hand. "I have no idea what I'd do if you weren't here with me and I need you to know how much I appreciate the fact that you are who you are."
Tom is taken aback by his brother's honesty, by how straight-forward he is and he really doesn't know what to do or say. "Same goes for you, you know," he mumbles and holds Bill's hand in return.
"I don't want you to say anything if you don't feel like it," Bill smiles, taking the last drag of his cigarette and tossing it on the pavement in front of them. "I'm not the one having doubts."
"I don't have doubts," Tom denies frowning, he looks at Bill in a way that says 'what-are-you-talking-about?'.
"It's alright, I'd feel the same way if you were doing what I've been doing. I still want you to know it's out of my control. The... sickness thing," Bill clarifies. "Me being an idiot is another thing," he adds, smiles a bit more easily and comes closer and Tom can smell his shampoo and his cologne and the cigarette in his breath. "You're not mad, are you?"
"Not mad," Tom says, licks his lips and looks at Bill's. "I wasn't ever mad about that."
Bill smiles wide then, and wraps his arms around Tom's neck. "Good," he comments, and kisses his cheek. "You're all I need, alright? Don't ever doubt that. Everything else is just...nonsense."
Tom wants to comment that nothing regarding his brother's health can ever be just "nonsense", but he feels Bill wouldn't appreciate it. So he just quickly kisses Bill on the cheek, ruffles his hair affectionately and stands up, easing his brother up with him. "Let's go be rockstars for now, yeah?"
Bill grins mischievously and that's all Tom needs. His brother to be happy, next to him. To make him happy, make him not worry about a thing, be the strength Bill sometimes needs when things get too stressful. Not because Bill is weaker, but because that’s what big brothers do. They take care of their younger and give them everything they need to be happy, not some burning, sick feeling in their stomach. Not an unbearable shame.
But Tom doesn’t hold all the answers. He needs to trust Bill, trust his words, and believe that what they do, who they are, isn’t hurting him, that Bill has the strength to beat whatever’s staining his soul. And even if he doesn’t beat it, he needs his brother to know that it’s alright to walk away if the walls come down. When the walls come down.
Bill squeezes his hand gently as they walk back inside. Tom registers this moment, keeps it clean and clear in his memory and hopes that he can always come back to it when he needs a reminder of why he’s doing what he’s doing.
For now, he can only hope.