Does it even matter? (Oneshot)
Title: Does it even matter?
Author: elizabeth21r
Pairing(s): Tom/Bill, Tom/OFC
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The twins belong to each other :(
Warnings: None
Summary: The dawn always reminded him of his brother's scent. It's exactly what he misses the most.
Author's notes: I wanted to write something short for once in my life. I always start writing oneshots that end up being 10.000+ words and it sucks.
First time writing something like this. I hope it's not really bad. Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.
In the millions of spaces in his mind, in dusty, forgotten corners, Tom can remember moments like this in his past.
So many years before, but the sky still has the same shade just before the sun begins to rise. It's exactly these minutes of the day when everything is colored under the dark blue light, and it's difficult for someone to tell what's natural and what's synthetic, what's humane and what's pure. Everything smells the same, smells like fresh sheets and ground just before the rain, everything smells so purely and clean, and it seems like silence links everything with its presence. The shadows in the room start appearing slightly, proof that there's a tiny bit of light, and the huge glasses get wet as the soft breeze starts travelling in the atmosphere.
Sometimes, Tom feels stupid for thinking such stuff are important, and he never in his life admitted that he enjoyed looking at the dawn while laying in bed, rumpled sheet around his naked legs and a soft mattress under his body, so he can sink in it easily.
A slender hand travels under his arm, caressing the skin softly. "Baby?"
Tom can hear the hoarseness in the voice. He knows he got caught, but he doesn't care. Sleep has always been his ally in moments like this. He gently touches the foreign hand and brings it towards his lips, kissing the long, slender fingers. They don't smell like everything else.
"What happened?"
A phrase becoming a question a hundred times before. What happened, what happens, what will happen. But Tom can't always know the answer to that question. He never does.
He doesn't respond. He buries his head further in the pillow, lowering his back towards his girlfriend's naked breasts, wrapping her arms around his waist. He shuts his eyes and tries to remember.
Once they're open again, the sun has risen. Nothing feels the same anymore.
--
The phone rings a couple of hours after midnight. The annoyed breaths coming from the pillow next to him is what wakes Tom up, 'cause the sound of the phone had sunk in his brain perfectly clear and it doesn’t wake him up anymore.
His feet touch wood and the phone rings, repeatedly and loud, tormenting his ears. It's torture, people calling you this late. But the time difference never was a problem for any of them.
Tom picks up the phone and he can hear life at the other end of the line. He can hear cars and people speaking, he can even almost see the bright light of the New York sun, or the Los Angeles one, or any other place his brother was visiting at that time. He pays more attention in that than he does in his actual voice.
It's too late for Tom to start any conversation.
His fingers rub his scalp again and again, touching free blonde strands, barely reaching his shoulders. His eyes close and open and close again, he might be sleeping a little, it's so late, he wants to whine, but he can't and he doesn't want to interrupt Bill's happy voice. Scattered words are marked in his mind, tired as he was, scattered phrases, such a nice weather here, I bought a new car, I moved in with her, I have to cook today, I miss you, I love you.
The call ends and Tom almost falls asleep on the kitchen table. It's too late, he wanted to tell his brother, it's too late.
--
The body beneath him burns, the skin wet from sweat and bitter tasting, no matter how beautiful it looks. Hands wrap themselves around his neck and Tom's moves are slow and steady inside her, trying to reach his salvation. The hands pull him downwards, trying to share a kiss, and Tom obeys because that's what he knows best.
"Do you love me?"
A verb so stupid and pointless to Tom. Does it even matter if you love someone? What matters is who you choose to live your life with, who you choose to be with. That's what he would tell her, but he knows that's not what she wants to hear. That's never what they want to hear.
Tom would tell her that he loves her, but he could never spit those words out, not because it means a lot to him, but he thinks it would be the biggest lie in the world, he'd be the biggest sham. He never answers and she keeps asking. And Tom just makes love to her, because really, this isn't just a random fuck. He cares about her, just not as much as she'd want, not as much as he should, not as much as he knows he can care about someone.
Later on, the sheets are back on their bodies, dry as they are, and a bit cold. The strong hand wraps itself around her slim shoulders, her long hair colors his pupils black every time he looks at her. And the question comes again, "Why?". As if it matters. Just because, Tom wants to tell her; some people never love, they just compromise and get used to stuff.
"I'll never get it," he hears her say, as he tries to close his eyes and stop listening. "What am I doing wrong?" and Tom might have answered, it's not your fault, it's just that fucking my brother was a feeling you'll never be able to fulfill in me, but he's not sure she'd appreciate it. He just kisses her forehead and falls asleep.
--
His skin gets goosebumps from the sudden change of temperature. Behind him, the glass door is closed and the tiny light colors the room orange, but Tom is looking straight ahead, at the blue atmosphere. He breathes in, and it feels like he smells the sea, like his lungs are full of that scent, as if it really was in front of him. Just like back then.
"...sitting on that hill, remember? We kept looking straight ahead, up until the sea met the sky."
He smiles at the phone. Bill always had the appropriate things to say in every moment. He caresses the surface of the cold plastic softly, trying to imagine that it's Bill's skin under his fingers, but Bill's skin never was so dry and lifeless in his hands. The feeling of it would never leave his fingertips.
His brother's breath comes so clear through the receiver, and Tom almost feels it in his ear and cheek. He looks around again, and nothing's blue anymore. Everything is back to their color.
It's too late, he tells Bill faintly and his voice is hoarse, it frightens him, it's too late, I have to go.
--
It's so unfair and Tom knows it. Because she cares a lot about him and she loves him and she wants what's best for him. What he's doing is very unfair, but he doesn't want to lose her. Not because she's the most important person in his life, not because he doesn't know what he'll do once she's gone; she is the only stable thing in his life, and he's tired of losing everyone. Sometimes he even wonders how she can still like a guy like him, so cold and distant.
She talks and talks and talks for a long time, but Tom doesn’t listen, her words get tangled with other things he'd heard before, there was a lot of traffic today, I just woke up, I’ll make us dinner, what time is it there?, I missed you, I miss you, do you love me?, I love you.
He shakes his head, sighing. Does it even matter?
--
Tom looks at her face and feels calm. It's certainly the most important feeling she gives to him. Calmness. Relaxation.
"Why are you staring at me?" she asks, smiling behind her half-closed eyelids.
He doesn't tell her she reminds him of his brother, because he doesn't even know if she resembles him that much. What's for sure is she has the same pretty lips and calm eyes like Bill used to have in moments like this, lying in bed next to his twin. Tom smiles even if he knows that she doesn't get it, closes his eyes and leans towards her, capturing her lips in a wet, but soft kiss. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to imagine it's his brother.
He hugs her and shuts his eyes harder, he knows it's so unfair for her to always be a substitute, but Tom doesn't care. He can live with that just fine.
--
The next time they make love, Tom answers his brother's call while he fucks her. She later tells him she finds it rude. Tom finds it extremely redemptive.
--
"...and touch you..."
Bill has been making this list for quite some time. I want to hug you, he tells Tom, kiss you, make love to you, blow air in your face, taste you, hear you next to me, feel you close to me. Tom remembers each and every one of these feelings, they're all very clear in his head, but there's only one thing he remembers the most. There are times when he forgets, of course, some of these, like the feeling of his brother's hand above his own on the car's handbrake or the sound of his voice when he's very pissed off.
You, Bill asks, you Tom? What do you want to do? What is it that you miss the most?
Tom doesn't even think before he gives his answer.
--
It's just something, Tom decides, something about the dawn that makes him love it so much. He knows what it is, but he can't understand why he has linked these things in his mind. Maybe it's the endless need to hide, or the permanent presence of shadows and darkness every time they were together, God knows. Everything in the dawn reminds him of his brother, but above everything, its smell does. Tom would fight with the world's wildest beasts; he'd argue with the greatest philosophers, he'd give up his own life to defend his opinion about the smell of dawn and how it really is something entirely different than any other moment of the day. It smells like freedom, it smells like feelings and love and longing and hands wrapped around long blonde dreadlocks.
The dawn always reminded him of his brother's scent. It's exactly what he misses the most.
The girl next to him moves up a little, and Tom knows that she's not sleeping this time. She leans towards him and hugs him, looking by the window along with him, at the blue light. He strokes her hand and leaves a kiss on her cheek.
"Don't leave me," she tells him and it's not the first time. Tom never answered her before, because he thought it was stupid of her to even plead for something like that. But as time passes, her plea seems more and more understandable in his eyes. Don't leave me, you're not even here, don't go, I know what I mean to you but don't go.
Tom touches her arm and smiles sweetly. "No way," he tells her, and the sound of his voice is neither sweet nor promising, it's serious and honest. No way, he knows what it's like to abandon and be abandoned. He will never feel something more about this girl but he will never feel something less either.
Yes, there will never be someone like Bill in his life. Everything belongs to him and everything that's his belongs to Tom. One heart in two bodies, he had told Tom once, when he tried to explain what their relationship really meant, one mind in two heads, half vital organs yours, half mine. When they're apart, we'll always feel that everything is half and unredeemed, we'll never find true happiness.
She wraps her arms around him tight.
Half a heart, half a mind. Does it even matter?