Talk Tonight (1/1)
Title: Talk Tonight
Author: elizabeth21r
Pairing(s): Tom/Ria, Tom/Bill (if you squint really really hard)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author's notes: Loosely based on prompt #128 by fyredancer. I wanted to try it ever since I first read the prompt. I ended up writing it on paper in a sudden outburst of inspiration after so long. In case it feels rushed, yeah it probably is. Much love and thanks to macfrosty for the beta.
Summary: Bill had always thought words weren't needed between him and Tom. He thought he knew his brother. He's not so sure anymore.
Hugging the thin, leather jacket tighter around his middle, Bill smokes a cigarette greedily, each powerful suck bringing him closer to calmness. The soft breeze around him leaves goosebumps on his skin, no matter how almost non-existent it is. It’s getting colder, mid-October as it is, and the slightest of winds is enough to make him cold.
After so long in such a different environment, everything is a thousand times more difficult to get used to, from the cold weather to the fact that he now has to go outside the house to enjoy a cigarette.
He exhales a grunt along with smoke through his nose. It barely burns his nostrils and it feels so good, a warm sensation unlike any other he’s felt lately. He can hear his mother fussing with his suitcases inside, many as they are, and he knows he should join her but he can’t help but stay put, enjoying the calmness while it lasts.
It feels so weird, being back in Germany. Especially back at his mother’s place, with so many memories lingering on every corner. The smell of violets that his mother grows every spring and somehow hangs in the air throughout the whole year. The small swing his parents built with their own hands so he and his brother could pretend they were flying high above the earth during their childish games.
He wonders if he can ever escape them. His wounds are still so very fresh and he sees ghosts of his past everywhere, though he highly doubts it would be any different if he was to stay somewhere else.
It has nothing to do with location. Everything reminds Bill of his brother, and he’s trying so hard to block him out of his thoughts. Even the notion of him crushing the cigarette butt under his boot reminds him of Tom and how he’d constantly scold him for smoking too much during those urges of over-protectiveness he’d get once in a while. “You smoke more than I do,” Bill would complain, blowing the smoke right on Tom’s face just to annoy him and Tom would playfully punch him on the shoulder and remind him that he didn’t have a beautiful voice to take care of.
Bill winces and turns to go back inside the house, scratching his bare neck. He wonders if he’ll ever feel comfortable with himself again, if the numbness will ever go away. The wounds are truly fresh and right at this moment, he can’t see it happening.
-
Bill stares through the TV for what feels like a century before his eyes focus enough to recognize his face. The familiar voice of a female host who’s been doing this long enough for him to still remember her echoes in the empty living room, the language so foreign in Bill’s ears after years of only watching American TV.
”So what’s up with the guys from Tokio Hotel? You still remember them, right?” she playfully asks and Bill feels the first shot of guilt run down his throat in the form of a swallow. He desperately wants to change the channel and never watch this, his fingers clench the remote painfully but he can’t seem to make his body co-operate.
”Trouble for the famous twins, as it seems that the younger Bill Kaulitz has left their residence in Los Angeles, where he and his brother Tom have been living for the past two years,” she continues and Bill stays glued on the couch, watching candids of himself playing with awful transitions in a poorly edited video, clearly made in hopes of catching the eye of a teenage girl who’d yet to know about them, no matter how unlikely that is.
A picture of him and Tom shows up, one he doesn’t remember seeing before and a dramatic split comes between them, tearing the picture apart, a huge question mark hovering between the twins’ faces.
This is so lame, Bill thinks to himself, random words from the host register in his brain, questions he hadn’t even considered answering ‘till now, is the band over?, will the brothers ever speak again?, was it Tom’s girlfriend Ria the one who tore them apart?
At last, Bill switches the TV off in one swift movement; a warm ache spreads from his gut to his throat, threatening to spill out. Would he ever talk to Tom again the way he used to? His beloved brother who had always been so eager to please him, so ready to defend and support him. His brother who’d always been the one Bill would go to for everything, who was half his soul, once upon a time. It feels so long ago.
Bill sits up and places his elbows on his knees, his palms support his forehead. He misses Tom so much. He tries hard to put up a strong appearance in front of his mother who’d always wanted the best for them both, never doubted or judged their decisions even if she thought they were wrong at times. She’s tried to make this as easy for him as possible, but everything is too overwhelming for Bill. He feels so restless, yet he can’t find the strength to move from one room to another the last couple of days that he’s been there.
He doesn’t notice his mother is home until he feels subtle movement on the couch and her hand gently squeezing his shoulder a couple of seconds later. “Oh, Bill,” she says, moves her hand to his neck and strokes his short blond hair. “It’s going to be alright.”
Bill sighs loudly and nods, hopping he would eventually see it that way soon.
--
“So, how are things over there?”
Bill swallows a yawn and stares at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to his bed. “Everything’s good,” he says, trying to sound remotely excited though Tom probably knows better. "Quiet,” he adds. “No surprises so far.”
“Good, good,” Tom says; probably pleased to know his brother doesn’t have to face stalkers and paparazzis on his own. “Are you feeling any better now that you’re back home?”
Bill frowns and swallows loudly, unable to answer as easily as he did before. No, I really fucking miss you, he wants to say. I miss our lives before, the lazy walks with our dogs, the late-night studio sessions, your silly words of affection and your burnt toast.
His ear catches a female breathy laugh and the words get stuck in his throat. “Ria’s there with you?” he asks unnecessarily. Of course she’s there with Tom, especially now that Bill is out of their way. Her voice is low enough to indicate she’s whispering, yet loud enough for Bill to know she’s sitting somewhere very close to Tom. Probably lying next to him on his queen-sized bed, with Tom’s dog sleeping soundly at their feet.
“Yeah,” Tom says and it sounds like he’s smiling. Bill feels a thousand needles piercing right behind his eyes and wants to hang up, no matter how he misses Tom’s voice. His brother is happy there, without him. Why wouldn’t he be, Bill wonders. He has his whole life planned there, his pretty girlfriend by his side, his big house filled with the latest recording equipment, his privacy finally secured. Why would he need Bill to be happy?
“Guess I should let you guys enjoy your time,” he says, a hint of sarcasm hidden behind his words even though he means them deep down. Maybe Ria was right all along; Tom had always been too soft with him, too gentle, fearing he’d do or say the wrong thing and hurt his twin. Maybe Bill should’ve moved out a long time ago.
“We can enjoy it any other time, Bill,” Tom protests, though half-heartedly, no matter how Bill wants to believe he means it.
“No, it’s alright, it’s quite late here anyway and I was kinda sleeping,” Bill reassures him, his hoarse voice and long yawn a solid proof. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright? Say hello to Ria from me.”
Tom sighs and Bill likes to imagine he can feel his brother’s breath on his ear through the receiver. “Sleep tight, little brother,” he teases and Bill has a hard time believing he would do that.
“Bye, Tom.”
--
Bill is not used to this kind of night out, he has to admit. He doesn’t even remember the last time he’d been to a club that wasn’t some ridiculously expensive place with mostly celebrities hanging out in the big, fat VIP booths. He instantly recalls the last night before he left LA, his failed attempt to spend a couple of hours in his brother’s company while Ria practically straddled his lap and kissed his long neck.
A hot wave of frustration fills his stomach and Bill wants to suppress the feeling because he knows it is completely unjustified. He doesn’t own Tom, now more than ever, and his brother deserves the right to be happy in a normal way, away from the burden of being in a successful rock band or caving in their management’s wishes, like Bill himself. Even if it was part of what they’d ultimately wanted; together, to take over the world.
Bill snorts. Just a look around is enough to know things have changed, probably irreversibly. He’s sitting in a dark corner of some unknown club in Hamburg with his bandmate Georg opposite of him and no one even throws a second glance their way. Why would they, he thinks, when the band’s been away for so long and he himself has changed beyond recognition. Maybe he made the wrong choices, he can’t help but think.
A small nudge on his left foot is enough to gain his attention. “Are you alright man?” Georg asks, playfully but still concerned.
Bill hates the concern in everyone’s voices whenever they address him, like they need to be careful around him in case he brakes, alone and incomplete as he is away from Tom. No matter how true that is, Bill never had a problem sealing his feelings away, fooling everyone that things were fine, even if Georg certainly isn’t everyone and doesn’t fall in that category after so many years of working together.
The awkward nostalgia hits him hard at the thought of all the years they’ve been together, all four of them, and Bill tries to hide it behind a tight smile. Too long has he moped around miserably, wondering why, how, when did things get out of his control, how come he never saw the signs. He’s not alone in this, the twins are not alone in this.
Staring back at Georg, who’s still locking concerned eyes with his, he knows he has to find it in him to go on without Tom, no matter how hard it is, because clearly it is the right path for everyone. That’s the only way Tom can go on with his life, even if it’s with someone else, the only way the band can keep making music in the near future. With Bill stuck in the past, that’s never going to happen.
“You just kind of zoned out for a while,” Georg justifies his question, as if he has to, as if the boundaries of their friendship are not clear enough anymore.
“Georg, it’s alright, I don’t mind you asking,” Bill reassures him and Georg looks timid. “You don’t have to be careful around me. I’m alright. And it means a lot that you called. A night out is nice. Takes my mind off things.”
“Figured it’d do you some good,” Georg admits and smiles warmly. “Look. Bill,” he says after a while. “You know I don’t like taking sides between you and Tom but I’ve got to say, this… I didn’t expect this,” he continues. “I always figured you two would stick together no matter what. Never thought he’d do that.”
Bill hates himself at the thought that people assume Tom threw him out of their house to live with his girlfriend, or anything close to that. He knows Georg doesn’t mean it that way, but he still can’t help but think of all the false assumptions people have probably made.
“Things change,” he just says, careful not to color his voice with any kind of emotion that would bring the concern back on Georg’s face. “It’s no one’s fault in particular. I’ll be alright, don’t worry about me.”
He wants to believe that, wants to truly mean it but right at that moment, he knows both he and Georg are silently humoring him by nodding and dropping the subject. A gentle buzz on his pocket informs him of a new text and Bill unlocks his phone, reading his brother’s text,
gonna chat today?
He stares at the letters as if they’re mocking him. Their last call is still so fresh in his mind, how he felt like an intruder in his brother’s and Ria’s relationship, like a stranger bothering them, preventing them from having their own private time. He wonders how long had he been blissfully unaware of that fact until Ria brought it up. He wonders how long had Tom been meaning to tell him about it. How he managed to miss all of it when everything, even his brother asking if they should talk… It all screams “intruder” in his brain.
With one last look on the text, he swifts his thumb on the phone’s screen and deletes the message. Things are different and this time Bill is not going to be the one left behind, desperately trying to catch up.
--
“You’ve been avoiding him then?” Andreas asks, blowing on the hot smoke coming from his cup of coffee. “You know that’s never the right solution.”
“ ‘m not avoiding him,” Bill mumbles. “I’m only trying to make it easier. It’s for his own good.”
“For her own good, you mean,” Andreas interrupts.
“No,” Bill stops him, the determination in his voice almost tangible. “This did not happen because of her,” he says firmly. “Tom needs this.”
“He really doesn’t sound like it though,” Andreas comments, careful not to fully disagree with Bill and cause him to snap again.
Bill frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know man…” tries Andreas, taking a sip from his cup just so he won’t start talking, Bill assumes, uncomfortable as it must be for him to act like the messenger. “I just think you should really talk to him. Talk about this thing. You’ll have to anyway, you guys have to work together some time.”
Andreas is right and Bill is painfully aware of that. It’s only been a couple of weeks that he’s been away and not only is he still missing his life and his brother like crazy, he’s also completely uninspired. Which makes sense, he thinks, after all. He’s only been suppressing his thoughts and feelings in an attempt to put some distance between him and his brother, even if they still text each other relatively often, just to make sure no one is having troubles. He’s been forcing himself to do stuff just for the sake of doing them alone, of making memories personal and no longer shared.
His lack of productivity feels like the smallest problem though, when he thinks of his brother being unhappy while Bill’s away and can’t make him feel better.
Bill remembers the countless of times he’d had to nurse Tom from a slightly broken heart every time he ended a Skype-call with his girlfriend. Or when he’d come home after leaving her at the airport, pretending to be all ready for parties and drinks when deep down he felt mostly gloomy. Or the permanent grin on his face when Ria had announced she was going to move to LA just so she could be closer to Tom.
Bill isn’t stupid or naïve. He knows Ria makes Tom happy, which is why he’d made a lot of personal sacrifices back home just so he could help them and their relationship. He wasn’t aware of how things would turn out eventually back then, but all he’d wanted was for his brother to be happy, and he’d do anything to make that happen, no matter the consequences.
He’d cut down on the time he spent with Tom just so Tom could stay back and chat with her. He’d leave the house when Ria visited, rarely as it happened the first couple of months, just so they’d have the whole place on their own. He’d canceled plans the twins had been super excited about just ‘cause Ria wasn’t interested. He’d let Tom go on their birthday, let them celebrate it together instead, something the twins had never done before, a silent promise of ‘never apart’ on that very specific day shattered to pieces.
Bill wasn’t used to sharing anything back then, let alone his twin; he still isn’t, but he no longer is a teenager, young and unaware of the ups and downs of the business. They might have started with a shared dream, him and Tom, and an undying ambition and mutual trust, but they do differ in a couple of things.
He had always been more… flexible, never had a problem following rules and guidelines from the people above them. He’d easily create a persona that fitted his and the label’s needs, gladly closeted himself and pretended to be something he’s not just for the sake of his dream. Never did he have an outburst when paparazzi harassed the band or stalkers followed their every move.
Tom isn’t like that. Only once had he been forced to participate in a publicity stunt and Bill recalls now how disgusted his brother had felt when he’d come back from the date. “Never again,” he’d promised both to Bill and himself, and he’d kept that promise, no matter the hard pressure from the label.
After all they’d been through, especially after all the crap Tom had been through with stalkers and self-proclaimed fans throwing shit right on his face, he deserves this more than anyone. He deserves a well-adjusted person next to him, someone who will love him unconditionally and Tom can trust her with his secrets and his life. Bill had never felt the need to search for that because Tom had always been enough, and it did pain him at first, realizing that the feeling wasn’t mutual, but he’d stepped back.
If that’s what Tom needs, he’ll always step back.
Bill wants to ask for more information from Andreas. How can Tom not be happy? Bill had made the decision to move out with Tom’s happiness as the ultimate motivator. He can still painfully hear Ria’s voice ringing in his ear. ”You know how much Tom loves you,” she’d said, perhaps trying to coax him by bringing that up. ”And you know I really like you too Bill, I do, which is why I’m having this conversation with you. Tom will never do it and I don’t want you to be tricked like that, oblivious to the truth and our feelings just because Tom is too afraid he’ll hurt you.”
Hurt wasn’t even close to what Bill had felt after that long afternoon, the words “privacy” and “our” never before had been separated from Tom in his brain, and seeing this other stranger, because that’s what she felt like no matter how long she and Tom’d been together; seeing her use them so freely right in front of him felt like a bruising punch on his stomach. He’d never considered the seriousness of the situation up until the issue was staring right at his face, clear as the light of the day.
“He deserves this,” Ria had told him, echoing the words in his own brain. “Can you do it for him?”
Bill’s initial hurt was too massive for his mind to think in a clear way and produce coherent thoughts. The plan of immediately moving out had started blossoming inside him the moment he realized he wasn’t welcome anymore. He’d had no reason to postpone it or further discuss it with them, especially with Tom; Bill would never bear to hear such words come out of his brother’s mouth.
The sentimental part of Bill’s brain made him think he’d seen the same hurt mirrored in Tom’s eyes when he’d announced his moving back to Germany, but his brother had been so eager to help with everything that it spoke loud and clear to Bill. He’d made the right decision.
All those countless hours of Bill thinking about it, re-living the most awkward and uncomfortable moments of his life, all the sleepless nights next to his daschund on his cold, lonely bed, all those times he missed his brother and forced himself not to call him… He felt he’d made the right decision. He’d done the right thing to make Tom happy.
But, what if it turns out he hadn’t?
Bill quickly texts Tom, not at all caring about the hell he’d put himself through to avoid doing exactly that. we need to talk, he writes and glances back at Andreas, who’s looking at him with knowing eyes.
--
They’ve been talking for over an hour when a comfortable silence falls between them. Bill is outside his mother’s house, smoking cigarettes on and off and trying to get the conversation where he wants it, difficult as it is.
“This is like the fifth one,” Tom comments and Bill imagines a slight scowl on his face. “Bill, what’s up?”
Tom knows Bill likes to smoke but doesn’t chain-smoke unless he’s troubled about something. Bill doesn’t know if he’d done it deliberately so his brother would notice it.
“I spoke with Andi earlier today,” he starts and hopes that would be enough to let Tom know what he ultimately wants to say, but he doubts it. As strong as their bond is, even thousands of miles apart, Tom is no mind-reader.
“And?” Tom sounds curious, confirming Bill’s thoughts. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing, he’s fine, it’s just…” Bill takes another breath and brings his fingers on his forehead, pushes the skin with force. The cigarette hangs loosely between his fingers, the smoke burning his eyes. “Are you happy, Tom? Please tell me the truth, no matter what.”
There’s a long pause after this and Bill isn’t sure which answer will satisfy him the most. He wants Tom to laugh shortly and reassure him that of course he’s happy, just so Bill can be at peace that his decision wasn’t the stupidest thing he’s ever done. On the other hand, he wants Tom to feel as shitty as he does, away from him, to feel lonely and incomplete and miserable, even though he has a beautiful girl next to him who satisfies his every need.
Tom’s swallow is loud enough that Bill can hear it through the receiver. “No, not really,” he admits a bit hesitantly, as if that answer would crush Bill’s heart. Before Bill gets the chance to ask Tom why, or even mentally prepare himself for the answer, he hears his brother’s voice again. “Ria’s been… She’s been too damn clingy and I can’t…” he trails off. “I just… Sometimes I need to stay away for a while, you know? Not have her right behind me 24/7.”
Bill wonders if Tom had ever felt that way about him and is too terrified to ask. He wants to remind his brother that this is what he wanted, the “our” and “privacy” shared with her and only her, but he doesn’t want to sound like a bitter, jealous asshole.
“And…” Tom’s voice brings Bill back to reality. “I miss you so much, sometimes it physically hurts me. This is so lame and cheesy, I know, but you asked for the truth.”
A surprised breath escapes from Bill’s lips and he sits on the swing, his long legs move it back and forth just so he can have something else to focus on instead of his heart beating insanely fast. “Oh, Tom,” he says, half-relieved and half-sorry. “I miss you too,” he admits and it feels so good to finally let it out, let alone to Tom of all people.
“Then why did you do it?” Tom demands, his voice rising in volume. “Why did you leave? Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been for me, being here without you? How torturing it was, watching you go? What the fuck where you thinking?”
It takes a couple of seconds for Bill to register all this in his brain. Tom’s angry voice seems to have triggered all the frustration and hurt Bill’s been piling up inside. “I was thinking I’m doing you a fucking favor,” he spits out and gets back on his feet. “Leaving all my life, everything we’ve worked and dreamed of so you can have a chance at happiness, in normalcy. So you can be with the one you love. Is this your way of thanking me?”
Bill stops for a second so he can take a drag from his almost spent cigarette to calm his nerves. When he hears Tom is about to say something, he immediately speaks up. “Do you know how hard it’s been for me, knowing that this is what you want, that you’d even keep it from me and I had to find out from her?” he murmurs. “I had made my peace with the fact that I no longer had what it takes to keep you happy, but I never expected you to act like such a coward and keep it from me. It kills me. I left so you can have what you’ve always wanted, that’s why.”
The silence between them is no longer comfortable, it’s overwhelming and Bill feels like it’s choking him. He would hang up the phone right away if he didn’t feel the need to hear Tom apologize immediately, own up to his mistakes. Instead, what he hears is a loud crush, abrupt enough to make him flinch and Tom’s shorthaired barking worriedly, probably as startled as Bill himself is.
“Fuck,” Tom swears and Bill feels worried he’s injured for a split second. “She told you that?” he asks; the way he’d said it sounded so much like the way Bill would talk about Ria in the comfort of his own thoughts, where no one else but his subconscious would listen and judge him. It sounded like confusion and hurt and accusation.
Bill nods as if Tom can actually see the movement and it feels like he did when he naturally goes on. “I’m so sorry Bill,” he says and Bill’s eyes widen when he hears what appears to be a sob coming from his brother’s throat. He is so confused as to why Tom is apologizing or feels regretful enough to sob, even if his heart beats twice as fast as before, pumping hope throughout his body.
“I cannot believe I let this happen. I cannot believe I made you doubt you’re all I need to be happy,” the words travel in his brain through Tom’s voice and he feels like he’s dreaming, all of this too good to be true. He smiles though, ignoring his brain’s screams of disapproval, the hope almost completely alive when he hears the words “our” and “home” leave Tom’s mouth. He misses their “our” and it feels like heaven, hearing it from Tom’s lips.
“Please come back home,” Tom pleads again and Bill is too ecstatic to do otherwise.
--
The minute Bill takes his first step on the streets of LA, he feels a familiar wave of security and comfort rush into him. Building his life here so far away from what he once called “home” hadn’t been an easy task; but things are so much better in every aspect, that their place in Los Angeles is what he now considers home. That’s one of the reasons he’d felt so out of place back in Germany, even if he’d never have the guts to admit that to his mother, who’d probably feel crushed.
The drive from the airport back home had felt like the longest one he’d ever have to bear, the anticipation of finally feeling like he belongs, finally being next to Tom was killing him.
Although his brother had apologized on and on about it, Bill knows he is to blame too for the big misunderstanding. He shouldn’t have ever doubted his brother, shouldn’t have believed someone else’s words no matter who that someone was. Tom hadn’t yet told him what exactly happened between him and Ria, though Bill had a pretty good idea, judging by the way Tom spoke about her.
Opening the front door to their house, Bill lets his little girl roam freely in the spacious living room while he turns around to pay the cab driver who’s still bringing his suitcases from the car. He hears several barks from inside and Tom’s voice cooing over them, making kissing sounds and laughing loudly.
Bill hadn’t been aware of how intense his nostalgia had been; all the memories torturing his already shuttered ego while the twins had been apart felt like nothing compared to the throbbing of his heart right at this moment. Just hearing their little family is enough to make him lose his breath and when he finally steps inside, seeing it feels a million times heavier.
He doesn’t even get the chance to see the movement before Tom’s arms are tight around his middle, the weight of his face warm on Bill’s neck. Identical tremors run through both their bodies and Tom presses his lips ever so gently on the first sight of skin he sees, right on Bill’s collarbone, his faint stubble scratches Bill slightly.
“Welcome back home.”
--
After grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, Bill joins Tom at the studio, the sounds of random mixes filling the air. Tom messes with them for a while before pressing the play button to the vocals of a new track. Bill’s voice sounds steady and strong, maybe a little hoarse here and there but still beautiful nonetheless. Both twins are aware of the lyrics, the longing and hurt obvious enough from the words themselves, Bill’s singing bringing them to life remarkably.
Bill lights yet another cigarette and moves closer to Tom in front of the mixing console, runs a finger through his cornrows when Tom bends his head and winces with every word of the song. “Stop feeling guilty,” he says in his most stern voice. “Just stop.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever manage to do that,” Tom admits, their wounds still fresh even though a couple of months had passed since Bill’s arrival back to their place.
Bill leans towards his brother, his head on Tom’s shoulder, and exhales the smoke in the dark atmosphere around them. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” he says and hopes it doesn’t sound like a lie because he really means it. No matter how manipulative Ria turned out to be, the fact that Tom still deserves to meet a normal person doesn’t change. “You deserve someone who loves you and understands you and doesn’t want anything in return ‘cause having you is enough.”
In a rare moment of sentiment and affection, Tom leans towards Bill’s face and leaves a tiny kiss on his lips, nothing more than a ghost of a touch on Bill’s mouth. “I have you,” he says. “I need no other. I’m sorry someone else had to come between us for me to finally realize it.”
Bill doesn’t remember ever feeling happier in his short life. His face lights up and even though having his brother next to him had always been enough, he doesn’t feel hurt that Tom needed a bit more time to come to terms with that. He brings his cigarette closer to Tom’s mouth and lets him take a good, long drag.
“Better late than never,” he whispers, leaning back in his chair, comfortable and calm in his other half’s presence.
They’d never have to doubt for each other anymore.
Author: elizabeth21r
Pairing(s): Tom/Ria, Tom/Bill (if you squint really really hard)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author's notes: Loosely based on prompt #128 by fyredancer. I wanted to try it ever since I first read the prompt. I ended up writing it on paper in a sudden outburst of inspiration after so long. In case it feels rushed, yeah it probably is. Much love and thanks to macfrosty for the beta.
Summary: Bill had always thought words weren't needed between him and Tom. He thought he knew his brother. He's not so sure anymore.
Hugging the thin, leather jacket tighter around his middle, Bill smokes a cigarette greedily, each powerful suck bringing him closer to calmness. The soft breeze around him leaves goosebumps on his skin, no matter how almost non-existent it is. It’s getting colder, mid-October as it is, and the slightest of winds is enough to make him cold.
After so long in such a different environment, everything is a thousand times more difficult to get used to, from the cold weather to the fact that he now has to go outside the house to enjoy a cigarette.
He exhales a grunt along with smoke through his nose. It barely burns his nostrils and it feels so good, a warm sensation unlike any other he’s felt lately. He can hear his mother fussing with his suitcases inside, many as they are, and he knows he should join her but he can’t help but stay put, enjoying the calmness while it lasts.
It feels so weird, being back in Germany. Especially back at his mother’s place, with so many memories lingering on every corner. The smell of violets that his mother grows every spring and somehow hangs in the air throughout the whole year. The small swing his parents built with their own hands so he and his brother could pretend they were flying high above the earth during their childish games.
He wonders if he can ever escape them. His wounds are still so very fresh and he sees ghosts of his past everywhere, though he highly doubts it would be any different if he was to stay somewhere else.
It has nothing to do with location. Everything reminds Bill of his brother, and he’s trying so hard to block him out of his thoughts. Even the notion of him crushing the cigarette butt under his boot reminds him of Tom and how he’d constantly scold him for smoking too much during those urges of over-protectiveness he’d get once in a while. “You smoke more than I do,” Bill would complain, blowing the smoke right on Tom’s face just to annoy him and Tom would playfully punch him on the shoulder and remind him that he didn’t have a beautiful voice to take care of.
Bill winces and turns to go back inside the house, scratching his bare neck. He wonders if he’ll ever feel comfortable with himself again, if the numbness will ever go away. The wounds are truly fresh and right at this moment, he can’t see it happening.
-
Bill stares through the TV for what feels like a century before his eyes focus enough to recognize his face. The familiar voice of a female host who’s been doing this long enough for him to still remember her echoes in the empty living room, the language so foreign in Bill’s ears after years of only watching American TV.
”So what’s up with the guys from Tokio Hotel? You still remember them, right?” she playfully asks and Bill feels the first shot of guilt run down his throat in the form of a swallow. He desperately wants to change the channel and never watch this, his fingers clench the remote painfully but he can’t seem to make his body co-operate.
”Trouble for the famous twins, as it seems that the younger Bill Kaulitz has left their residence in Los Angeles, where he and his brother Tom have been living for the past two years,” she continues and Bill stays glued on the couch, watching candids of himself playing with awful transitions in a poorly edited video, clearly made in hopes of catching the eye of a teenage girl who’d yet to know about them, no matter how unlikely that is.
A picture of him and Tom shows up, one he doesn’t remember seeing before and a dramatic split comes between them, tearing the picture apart, a huge question mark hovering between the twins’ faces.
This is so lame, Bill thinks to himself, random words from the host register in his brain, questions he hadn’t even considered answering ‘till now, is the band over?, will the brothers ever speak again?, was it Tom’s girlfriend Ria the one who tore them apart?
At last, Bill switches the TV off in one swift movement; a warm ache spreads from his gut to his throat, threatening to spill out. Would he ever talk to Tom again the way he used to? His beloved brother who had always been so eager to please him, so ready to defend and support him. His brother who’d always been the one Bill would go to for everything, who was half his soul, once upon a time. It feels so long ago.
Bill sits up and places his elbows on his knees, his palms support his forehead. He misses Tom so much. He tries hard to put up a strong appearance in front of his mother who’d always wanted the best for them both, never doubted or judged their decisions even if she thought they were wrong at times. She’s tried to make this as easy for him as possible, but everything is too overwhelming for Bill. He feels so restless, yet he can’t find the strength to move from one room to another the last couple of days that he’s been there.
He doesn’t notice his mother is home until he feels subtle movement on the couch and her hand gently squeezing his shoulder a couple of seconds later. “Oh, Bill,” she says, moves her hand to his neck and strokes his short blond hair. “It’s going to be alright.”
Bill sighs loudly and nods, hopping he would eventually see it that way soon.
--
“So, how are things over there?”
Bill swallows a yawn and stares at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to his bed. “Everything’s good,” he says, trying to sound remotely excited though Tom probably knows better. "Quiet,” he adds. “No surprises so far.”
“Good, good,” Tom says; probably pleased to know his brother doesn’t have to face stalkers and paparazzis on his own. “Are you feeling any better now that you’re back home?”
Bill frowns and swallows loudly, unable to answer as easily as he did before. No, I really fucking miss you, he wants to say. I miss our lives before, the lazy walks with our dogs, the late-night studio sessions, your silly words of affection and your burnt toast.
His ear catches a female breathy laugh and the words get stuck in his throat. “Ria’s there with you?” he asks unnecessarily. Of course she’s there with Tom, especially now that Bill is out of their way. Her voice is low enough to indicate she’s whispering, yet loud enough for Bill to know she’s sitting somewhere very close to Tom. Probably lying next to him on his queen-sized bed, with Tom’s dog sleeping soundly at their feet.
“Yeah,” Tom says and it sounds like he’s smiling. Bill feels a thousand needles piercing right behind his eyes and wants to hang up, no matter how he misses Tom’s voice. His brother is happy there, without him. Why wouldn’t he be, Bill wonders. He has his whole life planned there, his pretty girlfriend by his side, his big house filled with the latest recording equipment, his privacy finally secured. Why would he need Bill to be happy?
“Guess I should let you guys enjoy your time,” he says, a hint of sarcasm hidden behind his words even though he means them deep down. Maybe Ria was right all along; Tom had always been too soft with him, too gentle, fearing he’d do or say the wrong thing and hurt his twin. Maybe Bill should’ve moved out a long time ago.
“We can enjoy it any other time, Bill,” Tom protests, though half-heartedly, no matter how Bill wants to believe he means it.
“No, it’s alright, it’s quite late here anyway and I was kinda sleeping,” Bill reassures him, his hoarse voice and long yawn a solid proof. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright? Say hello to Ria from me.”
Tom sighs and Bill likes to imagine he can feel his brother’s breath on his ear through the receiver. “Sleep tight, little brother,” he teases and Bill has a hard time believing he would do that.
“Bye, Tom.”
--
Bill is not used to this kind of night out, he has to admit. He doesn’t even remember the last time he’d been to a club that wasn’t some ridiculously expensive place with mostly celebrities hanging out in the big, fat VIP booths. He instantly recalls the last night before he left LA, his failed attempt to spend a couple of hours in his brother’s company while Ria practically straddled his lap and kissed his long neck.
A hot wave of frustration fills his stomach and Bill wants to suppress the feeling because he knows it is completely unjustified. He doesn’t own Tom, now more than ever, and his brother deserves the right to be happy in a normal way, away from the burden of being in a successful rock band or caving in their management’s wishes, like Bill himself. Even if it was part of what they’d ultimately wanted; together, to take over the world.
Bill snorts. Just a look around is enough to know things have changed, probably irreversibly. He’s sitting in a dark corner of some unknown club in Hamburg with his bandmate Georg opposite of him and no one even throws a second glance their way. Why would they, he thinks, when the band’s been away for so long and he himself has changed beyond recognition. Maybe he made the wrong choices, he can’t help but think.
A small nudge on his left foot is enough to gain his attention. “Are you alright man?” Georg asks, playfully but still concerned.
Bill hates the concern in everyone’s voices whenever they address him, like they need to be careful around him in case he brakes, alone and incomplete as he is away from Tom. No matter how true that is, Bill never had a problem sealing his feelings away, fooling everyone that things were fine, even if Georg certainly isn’t everyone and doesn’t fall in that category after so many years of working together.
The awkward nostalgia hits him hard at the thought of all the years they’ve been together, all four of them, and Bill tries to hide it behind a tight smile. Too long has he moped around miserably, wondering why, how, when did things get out of his control, how come he never saw the signs. He’s not alone in this, the twins are not alone in this.
Staring back at Georg, who’s still locking concerned eyes with his, he knows he has to find it in him to go on without Tom, no matter how hard it is, because clearly it is the right path for everyone. That’s the only way Tom can go on with his life, even if it’s with someone else, the only way the band can keep making music in the near future. With Bill stuck in the past, that’s never going to happen.
“You just kind of zoned out for a while,” Georg justifies his question, as if he has to, as if the boundaries of their friendship are not clear enough anymore.
“Georg, it’s alright, I don’t mind you asking,” Bill reassures him and Georg looks timid. “You don’t have to be careful around me. I’m alright. And it means a lot that you called. A night out is nice. Takes my mind off things.”
“Figured it’d do you some good,” Georg admits and smiles warmly. “Look. Bill,” he says after a while. “You know I don’t like taking sides between you and Tom but I’ve got to say, this… I didn’t expect this,” he continues. “I always figured you two would stick together no matter what. Never thought he’d do that.”
Bill hates himself at the thought that people assume Tom threw him out of their house to live with his girlfriend, or anything close to that. He knows Georg doesn’t mean it that way, but he still can’t help but think of all the false assumptions people have probably made.
“Things change,” he just says, careful not to color his voice with any kind of emotion that would bring the concern back on Georg’s face. “It’s no one’s fault in particular. I’ll be alright, don’t worry about me.”
He wants to believe that, wants to truly mean it but right at that moment, he knows both he and Georg are silently humoring him by nodding and dropping the subject. A gentle buzz on his pocket informs him of a new text and Bill unlocks his phone, reading his brother’s text,
gonna chat today?
He stares at the letters as if they’re mocking him. Their last call is still so fresh in his mind, how he felt like an intruder in his brother’s and Ria’s relationship, like a stranger bothering them, preventing them from having their own private time. He wonders how long had he been blissfully unaware of that fact until Ria brought it up. He wonders how long had Tom been meaning to tell him about it. How he managed to miss all of it when everything, even his brother asking if they should talk… It all screams “intruder” in his brain.
With one last look on the text, he swifts his thumb on the phone’s screen and deletes the message. Things are different and this time Bill is not going to be the one left behind, desperately trying to catch up.
--
“You’ve been avoiding him then?” Andreas asks, blowing on the hot smoke coming from his cup of coffee. “You know that’s never the right solution.”
“ ‘m not avoiding him,” Bill mumbles. “I’m only trying to make it easier. It’s for his own good.”
“For her own good, you mean,” Andreas interrupts.
“No,” Bill stops him, the determination in his voice almost tangible. “This did not happen because of her,” he says firmly. “Tom needs this.”
“He really doesn’t sound like it though,” Andreas comments, careful not to fully disagree with Bill and cause him to snap again.
Bill frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know man…” tries Andreas, taking a sip from his cup just so he won’t start talking, Bill assumes, uncomfortable as it must be for him to act like the messenger. “I just think you should really talk to him. Talk about this thing. You’ll have to anyway, you guys have to work together some time.”
Andreas is right and Bill is painfully aware of that. It’s only been a couple of weeks that he’s been away and not only is he still missing his life and his brother like crazy, he’s also completely uninspired. Which makes sense, he thinks, after all. He’s only been suppressing his thoughts and feelings in an attempt to put some distance between him and his brother, even if they still text each other relatively often, just to make sure no one is having troubles. He’s been forcing himself to do stuff just for the sake of doing them alone, of making memories personal and no longer shared.
His lack of productivity feels like the smallest problem though, when he thinks of his brother being unhappy while Bill’s away and can’t make him feel better.
Bill remembers the countless of times he’d had to nurse Tom from a slightly broken heart every time he ended a Skype-call with his girlfriend. Or when he’d come home after leaving her at the airport, pretending to be all ready for parties and drinks when deep down he felt mostly gloomy. Or the permanent grin on his face when Ria had announced she was going to move to LA just so she could be closer to Tom.
Bill isn’t stupid or naïve. He knows Ria makes Tom happy, which is why he’d made a lot of personal sacrifices back home just so he could help them and their relationship. He wasn’t aware of how things would turn out eventually back then, but all he’d wanted was for his brother to be happy, and he’d do anything to make that happen, no matter the consequences.
He’d cut down on the time he spent with Tom just so Tom could stay back and chat with her. He’d leave the house when Ria visited, rarely as it happened the first couple of months, just so they’d have the whole place on their own. He’d canceled plans the twins had been super excited about just ‘cause Ria wasn’t interested. He’d let Tom go on their birthday, let them celebrate it together instead, something the twins had never done before, a silent promise of ‘never apart’ on that very specific day shattered to pieces.
Bill wasn’t used to sharing anything back then, let alone his twin; he still isn’t, but he no longer is a teenager, young and unaware of the ups and downs of the business. They might have started with a shared dream, him and Tom, and an undying ambition and mutual trust, but they do differ in a couple of things.
He had always been more… flexible, never had a problem following rules and guidelines from the people above them. He’d easily create a persona that fitted his and the label’s needs, gladly closeted himself and pretended to be something he’s not just for the sake of his dream. Never did he have an outburst when paparazzi harassed the band or stalkers followed their every move.
Tom isn’t like that. Only once had he been forced to participate in a publicity stunt and Bill recalls now how disgusted his brother had felt when he’d come back from the date. “Never again,” he’d promised both to Bill and himself, and he’d kept that promise, no matter the hard pressure from the label.
After all they’d been through, especially after all the crap Tom had been through with stalkers and self-proclaimed fans throwing shit right on his face, he deserves this more than anyone. He deserves a well-adjusted person next to him, someone who will love him unconditionally and Tom can trust her with his secrets and his life. Bill had never felt the need to search for that because Tom had always been enough, and it did pain him at first, realizing that the feeling wasn’t mutual, but he’d stepped back.
If that’s what Tom needs, he’ll always step back.
Bill wants to ask for more information from Andreas. How can Tom not be happy? Bill had made the decision to move out with Tom’s happiness as the ultimate motivator. He can still painfully hear Ria’s voice ringing in his ear. ”You know how much Tom loves you,” she’d said, perhaps trying to coax him by bringing that up. ”And you know I really like you too Bill, I do, which is why I’m having this conversation with you. Tom will never do it and I don’t want you to be tricked like that, oblivious to the truth and our feelings just because Tom is too afraid he’ll hurt you.”
Hurt wasn’t even close to what Bill had felt after that long afternoon, the words “privacy” and “our” never before had been separated from Tom in his brain, and seeing this other stranger, because that’s what she felt like no matter how long she and Tom’d been together; seeing her use them so freely right in front of him felt like a bruising punch on his stomach. He’d never considered the seriousness of the situation up until the issue was staring right at his face, clear as the light of the day.
“He deserves this,” Ria had told him, echoing the words in his own brain. “Can you do it for him?”
Bill’s initial hurt was too massive for his mind to think in a clear way and produce coherent thoughts. The plan of immediately moving out had started blossoming inside him the moment he realized he wasn’t welcome anymore. He’d had no reason to postpone it or further discuss it with them, especially with Tom; Bill would never bear to hear such words come out of his brother’s mouth.
The sentimental part of Bill’s brain made him think he’d seen the same hurt mirrored in Tom’s eyes when he’d announced his moving back to Germany, but his brother had been so eager to help with everything that it spoke loud and clear to Bill. He’d made the right decision.
All those countless hours of Bill thinking about it, re-living the most awkward and uncomfortable moments of his life, all the sleepless nights next to his daschund on his cold, lonely bed, all those times he missed his brother and forced himself not to call him… He felt he’d made the right decision. He’d done the right thing to make Tom happy.
But, what if it turns out he hadn’t?
Bill quickly texts Tom, not at all caring about the hell he’d put himself through to avoid doing exactly that. we need to talk, he writes and glances back at Andreas, who’s looking at him with knowing eyes.
--
They’ve been talking for over an hour when a comfortable silence falls between them. Bill is outside his mother’s house, smoking cigarettes on and off and trying to get the conversation where he wants it, difficult as it is.
“This is like the fifth one,” Tom comments and Bill imagines a slight scowl on his face. “Bill, what’s up?”
Tom knows Bill likes to smoke but doesn’t chain-smoke unless he’s troubled about something. Bill doesn’t know if he’d done it deliberately so his brother would notice it.
“I spoke with Andi earlier today,” he starts and hopes that would be enough to let Tom know what he ultimately wants to say, but he doubts it. As strong as their bond is, even thousands of miles apart, Tom is no mind-reader.
“And?” Tom sounds curious, confirming Bill’s thoughts. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing, he’s fine, it’s just…” Bill takes another breath and brings his fingers on his forehead, pushes the skin with force. The cigarette hangs loosely between his fingers, the smoke burning his eyes. “Are you happy, Tom? Please tell me the truth, no matter what.”
There’s a long pause after this and Bill isn’t sure which answer will satisfy him the most. He wants Tom to laugh shortly and reassure him that of course he’s happy, just so Bill can be at peace that his decision wasn’t the stupidest thing he’s ever done. On the other hand, he wants Tom to feel as shitty as he does, away from him, to feel lonely and incomplete and miserable, even though he has a beautiful girl next to him who satisfies his every need.
Tom’s swallow is loud enough that Bill can hear it through the receiver. “No, not really,” he admits a bit hesitantly, as if that answer would crush Bill’s heart. Before Bill gets the chance to ask Tom why, or even mentally prepare himself for the answer, he hears his brother’s voice again. “Ria’s been… She’s been too damn clingy and I can’t…” he trails off. “I just… Sometimes I need to stay away for a while, you know? Not have her right behind me 24/7.”
Bill wonders if Tom had ever felt that way about him and is too terrified to ask. He wants to remind his brother that this is what he wanted, the “our” and “privacy” shared with her and only her, but he doesn’t want to sound like a bitter, jealous asshole.
“And…” Tom’s voice brings Bill back to reality. “I miss you so much, sometimes it physically hurts me. This is so lame and cheesy, I know, but you asked for the truth.”
A surprised breath escapes from Bill’s lips and he sits on the swing, his long legs move it back and forth just so he can have something else to focus on instead of his heart beating insanely fast. “Oh, Tom,” he says, half-relieved and half-sorry. “I miss you too,” he admits and it feels so good to finally let it out, let alone to Tom of all people.
“Then why did you do it?” Tom demands, his voice rising in volume. “Why did you leave? Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been for me, being here without you? How torturing it was, watching you go? What the fuck where you thinking?”
It takes a couple of seconds for Bill to register all this in his brain. Tom’s angry voice seems to have triggered all the frustration and hurt Bill’s been piling up inside. “I was thinking I’m doing you a fucking favor,” he spits out and gets back on his feet. “Leaving all my life, everything we’ve worked and dreamed of so you can have a chance at happiness, in normalcy. So you can be with the one you love. Is this your way of thanking me?”
Bill stops for a second so he can take a drag from his almost spent cigarette to calm his nerves. When he hears Tom is about to say something, he immediately speaks up. “Do you know how hard it’s been for me, knowing that this is what you want, that you’d even keep it from me and I had to find out from her?” he murmurs. “I had made my peace with the fact that I no longer had what it takes to keep you happy, but I never expected you to act like such a coward and keep it from me. It kills me. I left so you can have what you’ve always wanted, that’s why.”
The silence between them is no longer comfortable, it’s overwhelming and Bill feels like it’s choking him. He would hang up the phone right away if he didn’t feel the need to hear Tom apologize immediately, own up to his mistakes. Instead, what he hears is a loud crush, abrupt enough to make him flinch and Tom’s shorthaired barking worriedly, probably as startled as Bill himself is.
“Fuck,” Tom swears and Bill feels worried he’s injured for a split second. “She told you that?” he asks; the way he’d said it sounded so much like the way Bill would talk about Ria in the comfort of his own thoughts, where no one else but his subconscious would listen and judge him. It sounded like confusion and hurt and accusation.
Bill nods as if Tom can actually see the movement and it feels like he did when he naturally goes on. “I’m so sorry Bill,” he says and Bill’s eyes widen when he hears what appears to be a sob coming from his brother’s throat. He is so confused as to why Tom is apologizing or feels regretful enough to sob, even if his heart beats twice as fast as before, pumping hope throughout his body.
“I cannot believe I let this happen. I cannot believe I made you doubt you’re all I need to be happy,” the words travel in his brain through Tom’s voice and he feels like he’s dreaming, all of this too good to be true. He smiles though, ignoring his brain’s screams of disapproval, the hope almost completely alive when he hears the words “our” and “home” leave Tom’s mouth. He misses their “our” and it feels like heaven, hearing it from Tom’s lips.
“Please come back home,” Tom pleads again and Bill is too ecstatic to do otherwise.
--
The minute Bill takes his first step on the streets of LA, he feels a familiar wave of security and comfort rush into him. Building his life here so far away from what he once called “home” hadn’t been an easy task; but things are so much better in every aspect, that their place in Los Angeles is what he now considers home. That’s one of the reasons he’d felt so out of place back in Germany, even if he’d never have the guts to admit that to his mother, who’d probably feel crushed.
The drive from the airport back home had felt like the longest one he’d ever have to bear, the anticipation of finally feeling like he belongs, finally being next to Tom was killing him.
Although his brother had apologized on and on about it, Bill knows he is to blame too for the big misunderstanding. He shouldn’t have ever doubted his brother, shouldn’t have believed someone else’s words no matter who that someone was. Tom hadn’t yet told him what exactly happened between him and Ria, though Bill had a pretty good idea, judging by the way Tom spoke about her.
Opening the front door to their house, Bill lets his little girl roam freely in the spacious living room while he turns around to pay the cab driver who’s still bringing his suitcases from the car. He hears several barks from inside and Tom’s voice cooing over them, making kissing sounds and laughing loudly.
Bill hadn’t been aware of how intense his nostalgia had been; all the memories torturing his already shuttered ego while the twins had been apart felt like nothing compared to the throbbing of his heart right at this moment. Just hearing their little family is enough to make him lose his breath and when he finally steps inside, seeing it feels a million times heavier.
He doesn’t even get the chance to see the movement before Tom’s arms are tight around his middle, the weight of his face warm on Bill’s neck. Identical tremors run through both their bodies and Tom presses his lips ever so gently on the first sight of skin he sees, right on Bill’s collarbone, his faint stubble scratches Bill slightly.
“Welcome back home.”
--
After grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, Bill joins Tom at the studio, the sounds of random mixes filling the air. Tom messes with them for a while before pressing the play button to the vocals of a new track. Bill’s voice sounds steady and strong, maybe a little hoarse here and there but still beautiful nonetheless. Both twins are aware of the lyrics, the longing and hurt obvious enough from the words themselves, Bill’s singing bringing them to life remarkably.
Bill lights yet another cigarette and moves closer to Tom in front of the mixing console, runs a finger through his cornrows when Tom bends his head and winces with every word of the song. “Stop feeling guilty,” he says in his most stern voice. “Just stop.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever manage to do that,” Tom admits, their wounds still fresh even though a couple of months had passed since Bill’s arrival back to their place.
Bill leans towards his brother, his head on Tom’s shoulder, and exhales the smoke in the dark atmosphere around them. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” he says and hopes it doesn’t sound like a lie because he really means it. No matter how manipulative Ria turned out to be, the fact that Tom still deserves to meet a normal person doesn’t change. “You deserve someone who loves you and understands you and doesn’t want anything in return ‘cause having you is enough.”
In a rare moment of sentiment and affection, Tom leans towards Bill’s face and leaves a tiny kiss on his lips, nothing more than a ghost of a touch on Bill’s mouth. “I have you,” he says. “I need no other. I’m sorry someone else had to come between us for me to finally realize it.”
Bill doesn’t remember ever feeling happier in his short life. His face lights up and even though having his brother next to him had always been enough, he doesn’t feel hurt that Tom needed a bit more time to come to terms with that. He brings his cigarette closer to Tom’s mouth and lets him take a good, long drag.
“Better late than never,” he whispers, leaning back in his chair, comfortable and calm in his other half’s presence.
They’d never have to doubt for each other anymore.