(no subject)
Title: Through the looking glass (10/15)
Genre: Twins gen
Rating: PG13
Summary: Tom falls asleep one night and wakes up in a place he never thought he'd see again. Five years ago, Tom falls asleep one night and wakes up in a place he couldn't wait to see. Will they get back where they belong?
A/N: Wow, chapter 10. I went through my notes last night and I'm anticipating 15 chapters, I think.
Their shopping trip went smoothly, even if Bill had to stop and sign autographs a few times. Tom hung back, covered up in his big hooded jacket, and watched his brother easily charm a gaggle of squealing, pink-faced girls. It was all pretty bizarre. When they started to make grabby hands for Bill, they had to retreat quickly through the staff exit of the store; Tom was sort of glad then that Bill had brought the bodyguard, even if he was miffed that the guy was even taller than Bill and so ruggedly handsome that Tom felt vaguely threatened in his masculinity. Next to Michael, he was a midget, but at least, he had to admit, he was a safe, well-protected midget, so it was probably worth it. The girls’ screams still rang in his ears when they climbed back into the car.
They’d accomplished a lot in just a few hours, maybe because Bill had finally become the pro shopper he’d always wanted to be, or maybe because store security tended to clear entire areas of the shops for them to keep the hysteria under control. They’d picked up the gifts for their parents as well as a few sweatbands and a pair of shiny yellow sneakers Tom had seen along the way and hemmed and hawed over until Bill laughed and bought them for him.
“What are you going to wear them with?” Bill had asked, and told the customer assistant to please find a matching yellow bandana.
“We can make a stop at the skater shop,” he offered as they drove through the wintery city.
It was already dark outside, but all the shops were decked out with Christmas lights and sparkle. Tom had almost forgotten that he still felt slightly queasy from the previous night’s bender. He clutched the bag with his shoes to his chest, grinning. “What skater shop?”
“One that you like,” Bill said. He shrugged. “On the other hand, maybe we shouldn’t, they might still be miffed about the other day when Michael insisted on patting them all down before he let us in there.”
That’d effectively ruin any street cred. Tom made a face. “Why would he do that?”
“It’s not his fault their clothes are so baggy they could be hiding a flame thrower under it,” Bill said.
“I think I’ll pass,” Tom said. He peered into their bags again, happy with their purchases. The necklace for Simone had turned out to be a confection of sparkly, square gemstones set in large, asymmetric pieces of silver that hung off a chunky chain. It had Bill’s unusual style written all over it but a distinctly feminine appeal. “She’ll love it,” he told Bill. “Good job.”
“You drew it,” Bill said. “From my description, which, as you told me, was impossible to understand, but you got it anyway, so. Good job, you.”
“Good job, future Tom,” Tom said. He peered into the bag that held Gordon’s hat. “Who designed this?”
“Mom, actually,” Bill said. “She’s so excited to give it to him. Aw, mom.” He bit his lip. “I wonder what she’s going to say about all this.”
“Yeah.”
It was strange, sitting in the back of the car being driven around by a guy in a suit. This was how the Chancellor must feel. Tom stared out the tinted window as they drove around the city. He didn’t really know Hamburg that well - they’d taken a few trips up into the city while they were at the studio in Lüneburg, he’d even been on the Reeperbahn once, but living here must be something else. He still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the fact that he and Bill would get to live in an enormous house in a posh suburb, even when the gate at the edge of the property swung open and the car made its way slowly up the driveway.
The front yard was illuminated by a huge lamp on the porch; when the car approached, more lights flickered on all over the garden, probably triggered by motion detectors. He nudged Bill. “What’s with the giant Buddha?”
“All the wiring comes together there,” Bill explained hesitantly. “For the surveillance cameras? They’re hidden in the Buddha so no one can mess with them.”
Definitely like the Chancellor must feel.
“That’s insane,” Tom muttered. He jumped when the door swung open and Bill’s burly bodyguard all but hauled him out of the car.
“Thank you, Michael,” Bill said after gracefully bearing the same treatment. He unlocked the front door and pressed a few blinking buttons to disable the alarm. “I enjoyed going out today.”
“No problem, boss,” the man said. Some unspeakable emotion flickered in his steely blue eyes as he shook Bill’s hand. His brow creased. “If you need anything over the holidays, I’m just a call away. Please don’t hesitate.”
Tom couldn’t believe Bill had actually found someone who was smitten enough to address him as ‘boss’. He snickered quietly into his sleeve.
“Thank you,” Bill smiled. He pulled a thick envelope from his enormous, shiny purse and handed it to the bodyguard. “Merry Christmas, Michael.”
The man nodded curtly and took off.
“How much did you give him?” Tom asked as Bill locked the door safely behind him, locking them in.
“He’s worth his weight in gold,” Bill said ominously. He shrugged off his coat. “I appreciate it when someone does his job well. Okay, we have the presents, now we need to wrap them. Hey, let’s see if the tree is already here!”
It was; when they walked into the living room, there stood an enormous Christmas tree, smelling wonderfully of pine. It had just appeared, as if Santa had dropped it off in their absence.
“How did it get here?” Tom wondered.
“I asked the maid to let in the gardener,” Bill said.
“Oh.” That sounded much less magical than what Tom had imagined. “Well, are we going to decorate it?”
“Sure!” Bill clapped his hands in excitement. “We have silver garlands and little glass bells and sparkly icicles and lots and lots of lights. And, best of all,” he turned to Tom with an almost manic glint in his eyes, “fake snow!”
Tom grinned. Fake snow from a can was fun, which was why their mom had never allowed it at her house; it was a little too much fun. “What are you waiting for? Let’s get to it!”
Two hours later, the tree was laden with ornaments, the lights were flickering merrily on and off and, after a little friendly brawl, fake snow was everywhere, up to and including Tom’s hair. They sat on the floor amidst the mess, admiring their handiwork as they munched on some pizza that Bill had found in the freezer.
“That was fun,” Bill said. He sighed softly. “I wish Tom…my Tom could’ve been here too.”
“And my Bill,” Tom added. The whole room sparkled, from the Christmas tree to the matte glass surface of the coffee table to the shiny awards on the shelves which the maid seemed to have polished to perfection. His Bill would love this, but there was no way to describe the brilliance of it even if Tom got back to him. It was unfair. They were twins, they were meant to be together. If one of them travelled through time, why did the other have to stay behind?
“I shouldn’t have made that wish,” he burst out. “To get here, I mean. Not without telling Bill to wish for it too so we could be together.”
Bill glanced at him, surprised. “You didn’t know this was going to happen.”
“Still,” Tom said bitterly. “I shouldn’t have wished to go somewhere without him, not even here. I never do, if I can help it, and I just…well. You should be careful what you wish for, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Bill said. He lay back on the floor, his hands folded across his chest, and stared at the lights that reflected off all the sparkle below and danced along the ceiling, chasing each other like they’d come to life to play. “My Tom…I miss him so much. It’s two days now. We try to never go more than two days without seeing each other, even if we have different places to be.”
Tom didn’t know what to say. He lay down next to Bill; together, they watched the lights.
“Stupid Tom,” Bill said, with feeling. “He promised never to go anywhere I couldn’t follow. ‘When we go, we’ll go together.’”
A shiver raced across Tom’s skin. “He said that.”
“We both did, in so many words,” Bill said. His lips clenched tightly. “Many, many times.”
Tom’s chest felt tight. He didn’t want to think of this. He didn’t want to have to think of going anywhere without Bill. “Go where?” he whispered.
His brother laughed hoarsely. “Into the night.”
The little golden lights blurred before Tom’s eyes.
“It’s almost like he died. I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Bill said softly to the dancing lights above. “He just…fell asleep, and then he was gone.” His hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt, as if he was trying to keep his heart from bursting out of his chest. “If he’d died, at least I’d know what to do.”
Tom felt something wet on his cheek and realized he was crying silently, hot, burning tears. He rubbed furiously at his face with both hands. “Stop it! Don’t say that. You’re making it sound like he’s never coming back!”
“How do you know he is?” Bill asked in a flat, hard voice.
Tom sobbed once, angrily. “He has to! He has to, because I have to go back, I need to go back! I can’t stay here, it’s not right, the guys need me there. Bill needs me there.” He tried to breathe deeply, but only managed quick, hectic little breaths, like a frightened animal. “I need to be with him, I can’t… I’m not… I’m not myself when he’s not with me.”
Bill blinked rapidly, as if he was awakening from a deep sleep. His faraway eyes focused suddenly on Tom. Bill looked at him strangely, as if he was seeing him for the first time. “I still like that song.” He hummed a few bars of Ich bin nich’ ich. “We got it right then, when we wrote that. We were silly kids, but we already knew. Even then.”
Sniffling loudly, Tom nodded. “‘Course we knew. We know. We’re us. We belong together. So we’re going to find a way back. Because this is just not acceptable.” He wiped at his runny nose with the back of his hand. “Fuck, I hate this. Look what you’ve done! My Bill would never make me cry.”
“Only with laughter.” Bill stroked a gentle hand down Tom’s arm. Their arms pressed together, shoulder to fingertips; Bill’s hand curled around Tom’s, squeezing hard. “We’re incomplete,” he said solemnly. “But for now, it’s okay like this.”
When he looked in this Bill’s eyes, Tom could see his twin: only he ever looked back at Tom like he was a shining star at the center of Bill’s personal universe. “Yeah,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Until I can go back.”
Bill nodded. He didn’t let go of Tom’s hand. “Wish for it. I’ll stay here with you.”
Tom’s body ached when he woke up. He was still curled up on the hard floor of the living room, under the Christmas tree. Grey morning light was creeping in through the gauzy curtains. It hadn’t worked. Tom was still in the future.
Groaning, he sat up. “Bill?” There was no answer. Instead, the phone rang. Tom looked around, but Bill was nowhere in sight. “Bill? Hello?”
The phone kept ringing obnoxiously, six, seven, eight times. Whoever was on the other end of the line really wanted to talk to them. Huffing, Tom followed the shrill sound of the phone, shuffling into the kitchen.
“Bill?” When no answer came, he shrugged and picked up. “Hello?”
“Tom? Is that you?” a low voice asked. It sounded familiar but Tom had difficulty placing it.
“Um. Yeah. Gustav?” he guessed.
“Yes, it’s me. So you’re still there, huh.”
“Yep,” Tom said.
“How’s Bill doing?” Gustav asked.
Tom hesitated, wondering what he should say. They’d had fun together, but now Bill had vanished and the house was quiet, too quiet; a quiet Bill was never a happy Bill, in Tom’s experience. He fidgeted, unsure how much of their business he should share with Gustav. “I don’t know, he’s not here right now.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. Out?”
Gustav sighed. “What’s going on? You were really drunk when we left the studio, did you make it home okay?”
“I got a little sick on the way back,” Tom admitted, embarrassed. “And, well, Bill kind of freaked out during the night, but--”
“What do you mean he freaked out?” Gustav asked sharply.
Tom winced. “He…he cut his hair.”
“He what?” Gustav’s voice went high in shock, and suddenly Tom could hear the Gustav he knew in him. “Oh god, this isn’t good. What happened?”
“He got upset and he just cut it,” Tom said sheepishly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all somehow his fault. “But he seemed okay about it afterwards.”
“Bill is a volatile guy,” Gustav told him as if Tom needed it spelled out. “Tom, if something doesn’t feel right, if you get the impression that he might hurt himself--”
“Hurt himself!” Tom exclaimed. “Whoa, Gustav--”
“I know he’s your brother and you’re closest to him, but…” Gustav broke off. He was silent for a minute. “Tom, I’ve known you two for a long time. You can’t imagine how close you are now. Bill and your older self. They’ve… You know how Bill always said you should’ve been one person?”
Tom gripped the phone hard in both hands. His palms felt sweaty. His brother, his Bill, liked to say stuff like that when he was a little drunk or a little high or a little overenthusiastic, and when he did Tom always blushed and told him to shut up. “Yeah?”
“It’s like you two really do function like one person these days.” Gustav cleared his throat. “Be nice to him, yeah? Stay close. If anything happens, call me.” He sighed deeply. “What would we do if something happened to him?”
A shiver raced down Tom’s spine. “I’ll call,” he said. “If anything happens. Thanks, Gustav.”
“Merry Christmas, kid,” Gustav said. “Can you go look for Bill? Put him on?”
“Yeah, sure.” Tom walked into the living room and yelled out, “Bill?”
The door to the patio slid open and Bill stuck his head in, a cigarette dangling between his lips. “Hmm?”
Tom let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Gustav is on the phone.”
“Oh! Okay.” Bill toed off his boots on the doormat and came inside. All he’d put on against the chilly wind was a scarf; his fingers were blue with the cold. Who knew how long he’d been out there. “Gustav,” he said, smiling faintly as he accepted the phone from Tom and flopped down on the sofa, “Merry--”
A long monologue on the other end of the line cut him off. Bill listened, a crease between his brows that deepened into a full-on frown the longer Gustav talked.
“So what if I cut my hair?” he said eventually. “It’s my hair, I can do what I want, and since when do you--”
Gustav cut him off again.
“All right! Gustav, you’re such a drama queen, honestly, I have nothing--”
Gustav’s tirade didn’t seem finished. Tom stood awkwardly off to one side, his arms crossed against the cold that had come in with Bill. He knew Bill, but Gustav obviously knew things he didn’t and it was frustrating. Gustav had been a good friend for a long time, become an even better friend over the years, it seemed, but it wasn’t supposed to be he who talked Bill through a crisis.
It felt strange. Tom wished older Tom was there. He wouldn’t mind seeing him comforting Bill.
“All right. Yeah, I know.” Bill bit his lip. He rubbed his hand over a crease in his jeans, fingers tapping out a rhythm on his bony knee. “I’m okay, Gustav, I promise. Thank you… Yes, I will call you if I need to talk. You know you’ll regret offering before long, right?” He chuckled quietly. “Merry Christmas, Juschtel. Don’t overdo it over Christmas, eating meat is so 2007… Yes, of course I like you no matter what you weigh, I didn’t mean... Hey, remember who you’re talking to! …Yeah, okay. Bye.” He hung up, placed the phone on the coffee table and rubbed his hands over his face, chortling. “Oh, man, our Gustav really is something.”
“He was…” Tom began.
“Worried,” Bill finished.
“I was going to say ‘nosy’,” Tom said, and Bill laughed.
“He’s our friend.”
“He cares about you,” Tom pointed out carefully.
“He cares about us,” Bill corrected.
Tom didn’t know if that sufficiently described it - Gustav’s concern for Bill seemed a little more than friendly - but then, he didn’t really know this Gustav. He didn’t know what sort of relationship Bill had with him in the here and now; Gustav must have some special status, though, to dare call the house at nine in the morning. “He really, really cares about you,” he threw out there casually and watched Bill’s face closely for a reaction.
Bill sat very still. His expression was impassive. “Of course he does, we’ve been friends forever, we’re all really close,” he said levelly. “It’s ten years now since the band formed. Imagine.”
“Imagine,” Tom echoed. He sighed with some indefinable relief. The band, the friendship among the four of them, was still going as strong as it was back at home, even if things had become a little more intense over the years. He didn’t know how he would’ve reacted if it had been any other way. For the first time, he realized how he’d come to depend on Gustav and Georg’s steady friendship, how he’d always relied on the older guys being there, hanging out and making music with them forever. He never wanted that to change; if it had to, if anything had to change at all, let future Tom deal with it when he came back.
“We need to prepare,” Bill said. “Mom and Gordon are going to be here soon. We need to get a move on. Eh,” he made a throwaway gesture with his hands, “I don’t feel like Christmas at all. Our wishes don’t come true anyway.”
Tom harrumphed. He couldn’t handle another tearful breakdown. “You don’t know that,” he said. “It’s Christmas! I’ll try wishing myself back again tonight, okay? But for now, just put on one of your horrible Christmas CDs and get on with it!”
Bill glanced up at him, surprised. After a moment, he began to grin. “Hey, Tom. There you are.”
Tom gave him a very stern look to boot. “Get to work.”
“Okay. Okay. The tree is done, the presents are wrapped, we need to set the table and tidy up… You do the table, whenever you do the cleaning I can never find my things afterwards… Oh, and I should call the caterer… You’re right, I need music.” Bill jumped up, newly energized with his list of tasks before him. He searched through his stacks of CDs for a few minutes until he found what he was looking for. “Aha!” He popped it in, and ’Last Christmas’ began to play.
Tom made a face. Some things never changed.