(no subject)
While I was writing 'Through the looking glass' a little Bill/Gustav side story popped up that demanded to be written. After discussing it with strssna I decided that I didn't want it in the main story, because that was gen and I wanted it to remain that way. Now I'm happy to revisit the Looking Glass universe though :) Even if the little story turned into 15000 words. Enjoy!
Title: Into the blue (1/2)
Pairing: Bill/Gustav
Rating: PG13
Summary: Tom has returned from the past with some insights which cause friction between the twins and threaten to upset the dynamic of the band.
The new year started off quietly, just like Tom liked. Experience taught that the calm wouldn’t last, so he would make the most of it while it did. He’d make the most of every day, just because he could: Tom was back home.
The old, familiar routine of his life suddenly had a novelty to it that felt magical. For the first few days after his return from the past, Tom walked around the house with the tentative wonder of a newly-healed man who’d risen from his sickbed at long last after a deep, fitful slumber. Everything looked new and shiny; the cool winter air tasted fresher than any other breaths he’d ever taken. He basked in the presence of his twin, who seemed determined to attach himself to Tom’s side permanently and thus spared Tom the awkwardness of wanting to attach himself to Bill; spending the first few days within arm’s reach of each other calmed the storm that had raged in Tom’s soul.
He was home. They were safe, together.
Every day now brought an appreciation of being in the here and now. When Tom woke up, it was with a smile. As he went about his day, there was joy in every single little thing: the first quiet notes he coaxed from his favorite guitar, the feel of his own, well-worn clothes, the kisses of his mother, who was overjoyed to have him back. If adjusting to the new-old world around him that was shaped by two different sets of memories and experiences now had felt strange at first, he soon found that he didn’t much care about what, exactly, had happened, as long as the solid foundations of his life were untouched. And they were. He was Tom, he was a guitarist, and he had his twin. Everything else was just details.
There was only one thing he hadn’t figured out among all the new realizations, one thing that puzzled him, but strangely enough, it was not one that had been affected at all by the events that had transpired in the course of his time travel adventure. Quite the opposite: what he’d observed, to his befuddlement, had turned out just the same in both timelines, as his memory told him, and the parallel images of the past five years which he had, effectively, lived twice only enhanced each other in their clarity. It was silly, really, that he’d never seen what had happened right under his nose, but then, he hadn’t properly appreciated a lot of things.
Gustav, their taciturn drummer and one of their oldest friends, was secretly in love with Bill.
Thus was Tom’s conclusion after watching two incarnations of Gustavs tiptoe around Bill from the vantage point of temporal displacement, and he’d be damned if he just let that slide without comment. He couldn’t believe Bill had no clue that their Grumpy Bear of a drummer had harbored feelings for him for years, he was the emotional one after all. The question remained why Bill had never brought the subject up to Tom, and this was what puzzled Tom more than the realization itself. They didn’t keep secrets between them, so either Bill was oblivious or he was so uncomfortable with the thought of Gustav’s secret crush that he didn’t want to touch on it, neither of which seemed plausible to Tom.
It was all very mysterious, and getting more so with each day that passed, the end of the year quietly blending into the beginning of the new one. They were holed up at home, the world locked out after their mom and Gordon and the dogs had departed to let them tend to their busy work schedule. Truthfully, the first few days of the new year didn’t see much work getting done, but Tom simply refused to stress about that. They both still needed a bit of peace and quiet to wind down, sort through new-old memories together, enjoy the closeness of just sitting on the couch with no more than a hand’s breadth of space between them and their pinkies linked.
The only connection with the world they maintained was through their phones, and Tom soon noticed a pattern there that had been too long established for him to pick up on until he’d been pulled from his reality and forced to contemplate it from a distance. Every morning at nine o’clock, the phone would ring. Sometimes, when they were still too sleepy from a late night movie or just generally unwilling to face anyone but each other, it would go unanswered, but with the two of them keeping close, Tom couldn’t help but notice that more often than not Bill would actually drag his ass out of bed to answer the insistent caller and that alone was reason for surprise.
Needless to say, no one but Gustav Schäfer would have the balls to wake a Kaulitz at such an ungodly hour.
“Is that Gustav again?” he groaned when January the third was rung in by the shrill noise of the phone. Blindly, he reached out and smacked at the mattress beside him until he hit a bony arm. “Tell him to cut it out!”
“Aw,” Bill muttered, “let him, it’s sweet. He’s just checking in, he was so worried when you were gone.”
Seeing as he’d been back for over a week, Tom didn’t really think that argument was holding up, but Bill was already groping the nightstand for the phone. “Hey, Gustaaaaaaaav,” he yawned. “You woke us up.”
The whole telephone routine had, if Tom’s memory served, started as prank calls after the twins had sicced some hotel’s wake up call service on Gustav. Ever since, the drummer seemed to have taken it upon himself to wake them personally, and only now did Tom see that he might have a vested interest in the early morning calls. Bill yelling nasty things into the receiver after being rudely awakened wasn’t generally a thrilling experience, but on the whole, Tom sympathized: he too knew what it was like to hear Bill’s obnoxious voice and find it the most pleasant thing ever.
On the other end of the line, Tom could hear Gustav say something about early birds.
“We wouldn’t eat worms anyway, we’re vegetarians,” Bill informed him. He flopped back down on the bed and nestled close to Tom. “How’re you doing?”
“How are you doing?” came Gustav’s voice from the phone. “Everything all right over there?”
“Sure,” Bill murmured, already halfway back in dreamland with the soothing growl of Gustav’s voice lulling him to sleep.
“Except that we went to bed four hours ago and you woke us up,” Tom complained loudly.
“Hi, Tom,” Gustav said, amused. “You’re there too? Honestly, guys, why do you even have that large house, you’d be just fine sharing a broom closet.”
“I need my walk-in wardrobe,” Bill said. “And my own bathroom. It’s work space, really. Being so beautiful is a full-time job.”
“Really, I thought that came naturally to you,” Gustav teased, and Tom rolled his eyes so hard they almost fell out of their sockets. How he’d never seen Gustav’s pathetic attempts at flirting for what they were, he didn’t know. Bill, though, seemed to enjoy them, so Tom figured he’d let that one go.
Bill smiled an impish little smile. “Well, actually--”
“Right now, he has bags under his eyes,” Tom cut in. “And morning breath.”
Bill hit him over the head with a pillow, so Tom missed the next thing Gustav said. He surfaced again, red-faced, from under the down, to hear Bill giggle and say, “Aw, Gustav, that’s so sweet.”
Tom clutched the pillow in both fists and stared. Bill’s eyes were half closed; he was smiling beatifically at the ceiling, relishing whatever compliment Gustav had just made him, and suddenly Tom’s insides burned with some blistering hot emotion.
Bill was happy, and the rippling waves of his joy washed over Tom, mingling oddly with the shock that felt like a punch to Tom’s gut. His twin wasn’t oblivious, he wasn’t uncomfortable talking to Gustav, none of that at all. Bill loved listening to Gustav’s voice, loved whatever sweet thing Gustav told him, and he’d zealously guarded these moments of secret joy for who-knows-how long, unwilling to share them with Tom. How long had it been since Gustav started calling, started infringing on their everyday life?
Tom dropped the pillow. He felt raw; moving, sitting up, climbing out of bed actually hurt. He didn’t want to watch Bill getting breathy and heavy-lidded like some housewife gearing up to boost the grocery budget with some vanilla phone sex. “Tell him to fuck off,” he snapped. “He fucking woke us up.”
Bill flinched. His eyes snapped open. “Gustav,” he said, his voice suddenly crisp, “I have to go, okay? See you later for practice.”
Gustav said something, and Bill hung up. He tossed the phone at the foot of the bed, never taking his eyes off Tom. “What’s wrong?”
Tom jerked his head at the phone. “He’s a fucking idiot!”
“No he isn’t,” Bill said instantly, and Tom’s fury rose coldly inside like a snow storm.
“Don’t start telling me now what he is and isn’t to you!”
Bill sat up straight in bed. “You’re not making any sense.”
“I’m not making any sense? How about any of this?” Tom snapped.
“Any of what?” Bill actually looked around in confusion. “What’s going on? I don’t get it, we were having such a nice time--”
His befuddlement made Tom want to smack him. “Yeah, well, except that you were, oh, lying to me the entire time!”
“I, what?” Bill asked, hurt. He reached out, but Tom stepped back. “I’d never lie to you about anything, what are you even talking about!”
“Gustav,” Tom spat. “Stop playing innocent, you know exactly what I mean!”
Bill’s hands, reaching for Tom a moment ago, clenched into tight fists. His wide eyes narrowed, and Tom could all but feel him shutting himself in, drawing away. “I have no idea what you mean,” he said, low. His movements jerky, he flung back the blankets and jumped out of bed. “And I sure have no fucking idea why you want to fight when we swore we’d appreciate each day we have together from now on.”
Tom winced. Bill was pushing past him, fists rubbing furiously at his eyes, and Tom suddenly felt all the pointlessness of his anger come crashing down on him. He made a grab for his twin and caught a corner of Bill’s t-shirt. “Hey, wait,” he said, quieter now. “Where are you going?”
“My room,” Bill’s voice was quavering dangerously. He’d been ridiculously emotional ever since Tom had returned, waterworks starting at every tiny little thing; it was lucky Tom was ridiculously emotional to match, even if he wasn’t prone to sudden bursts of crying.
“Oh, don’t,” Tom said, reeling him in easily by his shirt so he could put his arms around Bill. “Sorry, I just… I didn’t mean… I guess we couldn’t hope to be hundred percent peaceful all the time, huh.”
Bill chuckled wetly. “We made it eight days, that’s pretty good for us.”
“Yeah.” Tom patted the back of his newly shorn head, and Bill grabbed handfuls of Tom’s cornrows and held on with a death grip. Tom squirmed.
“Why’re you so mad all of a sudden?” Bill asked.
“I…” Tom sighed. He was now pretty sure he knew what he’d thought he knew, but putting it all into words seemed overwhelming before a hot shower, some breakfast and the first morning coffee. Bill’s secrecy was still a smarting pain like a hard slap to the head, and Tom knew he’d have to be careful broaching the subject or he’d fly off the handle and then Bill would fly off the handle too and all of the vows Tom had made to himself about what his life would and wouldn’t be from now on would go out the window.
“Can we brush our teeth and get dressed and have a civilized discussion?” he sighed. “Please? It’s…not easy to explain.”
Bill pulled back, searching Tom’s face. “Is it something to do with the new memories?” Those had caused some confusion before, so the question was fair.
Tom grimaced. “Kind of. Not really. Come on, go take a shower, you smell. I’ll make coffee and then we’ll talk.”
“We need to get to the studio,” Bill reminded him.
Tom cursed. Their appointment with the others was at noon, tour preparation was starting, they needed to function as a band, but right then, Tom didn’t know how if he could stomach seeing his brother with Gustav. Jealousy made him twitch as if a hundred needles were poking his skin from the inside. “Crap.”
Bill looked at him oddly. “You’d take a nice long talk over the first rehearsal session of the year? Huh. Something’s really bothering you, isn’t it.”
Tom bit at his lip and nodded.
“Okay,” Bill said. “Showers, breakfast, and then we can talk in the car on the way. Deal?”
“Deal,” Tom said.
Bill touched his shoulder, his palm lingering gently on the side of Tom’s neck. “We’ll figure it out together, okay? No problem we can’t solve.”
Tom sincerely hoped so.
***
It was the first day of tour preparation in the new year, and Bill had been bouncing with excitement for it for days. The very first rehearsal session was always special, all four band members regarded it as the precedent that’d set the mood for the rest of the year, but this time it was even more of a reason for cheer. It was a band reunion. Tom was back.
The joy of this had still not worn off, even after the strange fight Tom had kicked off that morning. When Bill looked at his twin, his heart skipped a beat, even though Tom was just doing silly everyday things like brushing his teeth or making coffee or painstakingly sorting Bill’s CDs in ways that were mysterious and unfathomable to anyone but him and usually got on Bill’s nerves. Not this time.
He’d never take anything for granted again. Not the quiet background noise of Tom practicing guitar, not his weird pasta, not the solid warmth of him when Bill snuggled up to his twin on the couch. Especially not his quiet, comforting presence when Bill was high-strung and unhappy and needed something he couldn’t say, something only Tom ever knew how to give.
Tom was back and Bill had been walking on fluffy pink clouds of twinly happiness, just like Tom, who’d been almost shockingly attentive and tender until he’d snapped that morning. Truthfully, he’d been behaving a little strangely ever since he’d been back, but Bill had attributed that to the stress of time travel and the confusion of the new memories. Now he wondered if there might not be something else to it.
Tom had related every minute detail of his time travelling adventure to Bill; he’d returned from 2005 relieved and quietly joyful to be back, he slept better than he had in years, but something was up and Bill wanted to know what it was and now, before it upset any more of the blissful calm that had wrapped them up inside their little bubble for the past days.
Bill knew they had to venture outside again eventually, but the winter wind felt harsh and cold when he stepped outside; for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into his bed, pull the blankets over his head and sleep the day away. There was a weird tension in the air as he climbed into Tom’s car; they often shared amicable silences, there was nothing more comfortable to Bill than letting his mind drift, only to eventually arrive at the exact same thought Tom did. Today, though, their connection was out of whack, crackling with static, and the only thing that could usually clear the air was a good fight. Bill didn’t feel like fighting, but when they pulled out into the street and Tom remained quiet, he decided that tackling the subject head-on was preferable to the strangely charged silence that was giving him a headache.
“Okay. So what’s on your mind?”
Tom glanced at him, startled. “Huh? I was just thinking how great it is to be able to drive.”
Bill smiled. The first thing Tom had done after his return and a good day’s sleep had been to inspect every square centimeter of his car, berating Bill for letting young Tom drive it all the while. Bill had sat with his socked feet propped up on the dashboard while Tom crawled half under his seat in search of damage, thoroughly enjoying the lecture.
“Aw,” he cooed. “You must’ve missed your baby so much.”
“Not as much as I missed you,” Tom said levelly, never taking his eyes off the street. “Dammit, Bill.”
Bill drew a deep, shuddering breath. “So tell me why you’re mad at me, so we can be okay.”
Tom shrugged, carefully nonchalant. “It’s something younger Tom saw. While he was here. Something that I think I saw too while I was there. But the memory was kind of fuzzy, so I wasn’t sure I got it right. Until this morning.”
Having new memories fitting themselves in between the old had been a strange sensation. The older Tom’s visit to Loitsche had thrown Bill’s timeline for a loop too even though he himself had stayed where he was. The disruption in the normal course of events had set things in motion on a timeline parallel to a past that had already happened. Mostly the two were the same - all the big things had remained as they’d been, and a lot of small details were lost and forgotten over time anyway - but sometimes they weren’t and even now, startling new images occasionally popped up before Bill’s inner eye. Sometimes it was hard to fit them into the right place that was already occupied by some other, different memory, just like that of Bill’s first meeting with Nena, to which he distinctly remembered wearing two completely different outfits. The two memories remained sort of awkwardly side by side, different versions of the same story. Who knew what Tom had seen, or hadn’t, or both.
“Tell me,” Bill encouraged. They usually had more luck sorting things out together. “I was here with the younger Tom, I might remember.”
Tom hesitated. “Will you tell me the truth about it if I tell you?”
Bill stared at him, an eyebrow raised. “Um, yes? Seriously, Tom.”
Tom threw him a quick, hard glance. “Gustav called our house on Christmas morning, didn’t he.”
“As usual, yeah.”
“As usual.” Tom’s hands clenched around the steering wheel. “He was worried about you.”
“Yes? So? I was a little…out of my mind.”
“Yeah, so this is where it got fuzzy. I think Tom didn’t really know what to think, that’s why it was so unclear.” A traffic light switched to red. Tom brought the car to a stop and turned to focus his full attention on Bill. “He thought Gustav really, really cared about you.”
Bill sat very, very still as realization dawned on him, scared to move and have the whole construct of Tom’s careful explanation come crashing down upon him. “What do you mean?”
Tom snorted like an angry bull. “You know what I mean!”
It took a moment for the suggestion to really sink in. It wasn’t a new thought, but Bill had never discussed it with Tom and so it had remained insubstantial, a mere figment of his imagination. Now that Tom was bringing it up, Bill felt flustered and unprepared. Color rose slowly in his pale cheeks. “Really.”
“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” Tom snapped, and Bill blushed a deeper shade of red.
“I thought maybe I was reading stuff into the things he’d sometimes do,” he admitted quietly. “Because Gustav isn’t generally…”
“Well, you aren’t, generally,” Tom said. “But if it’s true, how did I miss that? And how could you not tell me?”
“We work with him 350 days of the year,” Bill pointed out. “It’s easy to miss the big picture when you’re so close. That’s why I wasn’t even sure there was anything to tell. I didn’t know if I was getting it right either.”
“Right.” The traffic light turned green. The car accelerated again. They were leaving the city behind now, driving out onto the autobahn. “So what’s going on?”
Bill squirmed a little in his seat. Tom sounded impatient, like he was expecting a good answer, but Bill didn’t have one. “Nothing. I don’t know.”
Of course, Tom had to tackle the difficult question. “How do you feel about him?”
“I…” Bill swallowed hard around a lump that was suddenly choking him up. He and Gustav…the idea had only ever been a distant fantasy; he couldn’t allow himself anything more when so much was at stake for the band. But now that the thought was out in the open, voiced out loud by Tom no less, it suddenly seemed much more tangible. Bill didn’t quite know what to do with that. “I… I…”
“Wow,” Tom ground out. He turned his head to stare at Bill, unmindful of the fact that he was currently approaching 180 km/h. “Gustav? Really? And you didn’t tell me? What the fuck, Bill?”
Bill toyed with the zipper of his jacket, pulled it up and down, up and down, up and down, unable to meet his brother’s eyes. “There was nothing to tell.”
“You like him!” Tom exclaimed. “That’s more than enough! How long has this been going on?”
“Nothing happened! Ever!” Bill swore. “Not in the one timeline, nor in the other.” In fact, his relationship with Gustav had been one of the things that hadn’t changed at all. Gustav had remained consistent, the quiet presence at Bill’s back that balanced out the crazy pull of the audience on stage, the steady life’s pulse that kept him contained when the rush of their job threatened to sweep him up and along, faster, too fast.
He was Bill’s opposite in every way: all light to Bill’s dark glamour, raw power to his apparent frailty, the comfortable quiet in which Bill’s words seemed witty and quick. The contrast between them was striking, and if they’d been different people, it might have pulled them apart, but no matter what Bill did, to what heights he climbed, Gustav remained wryly supportive, never judging, but never conforming to the pressure of fame either. His quiet strength matched Bill’s loud assertiveness; Bill respected that.
It could’ve always remained that way. He could’ve suppressed whatever he felt and masked any outburst of affection behind his often-declared longing for true love if Tom hadn’t decided to step in and make a big mess out of everything Bill had so carefully sorted away inside. Damn fate for reshuffling all the pieces of the game. “Fuck.”
Tom’s hard look seemed to grip him tight, pull him in and squeeze him until the truth came out. “How long, Bill?”
“I don’t know! I really don’t! He’s been a friend forever--”
“You like him as more than a friend! Stop bullshitting me!”
“I’m not!” Bill’s voice rose high and shrill with annoyance. “It changed so slowly, so little at a time that I didn’t even know anything had changed until…until…”
“Until when?” Tom asked.
“Until I started having fantasies about him,” Bill forced out. He ducked his head, sheepish. “I don’t know, a couple of years ago?”
“Years?” Tom kicked down the gas pedal in shock. Roaring, the car lurched forward, leaving behind the bright lights of the others. “And you didn’t tell me? I tell you everything!”
“I tell you everything too!” Bill cried.
Tom thumped his shoulder hard with one fist. “You didn’t tell me he liked you. You didn’t tell me you liked him! All these years you went around with this, this thing between you two and you didn’t let me in on it!”
“There’s no thing!” Bill insisted. “Really, there isn’t!”
“All those times he called in the morning, only to hear your voice?” Tom snapped.
“That’s not true!” Bill protested, flushing. “He’s our friend! You talk to him just as much as I.”
That seemed to take the wind out of Tom’s sails. He opened and closed his mouth a few times like a sullen fish. “I don’t get flirty with him!”
“I don’t get flirty with him either!” Bill exclaimed.
Tom gave him a look. “Yeah, you do.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“No!”
“Yes, fuck you, I watched you this morning!” Tom squawked indignantly.
It was Bill’s turn to gape. “All I said was… And then he said…” His eyes went wide. “Oh. Well.”
His shock seemed to ground Tom again, too. His lips twitched. “You really have no fucking clue?” Tom shook his head. “Man, you’re so out of the loop with this whole romance thing, I always told you it wasn’t healthy to go without for so long.”
“Shut up,” Bill said tonelessly.
“You fucking idiot,” Tom said, but his tone lacked real heat now. “You stupid ass. We could’ve talked about this, we can talk about anything.”
“Would you really want to know what I picture doing with Gustav when I get off?” Bill deadpanned.
Tom grimaced. “Good point.”
“And besides, I’ve also thought about Georg that way, occasionally, and that doesn’t mean anything at all--”
Tom’s face seemed to have morphed into a perpetual mask of horror. “The Hobbit? Even though you know how he smells in the morning?”
“His hair is nice.” Bill laughed quietly. “But, yeah, that fantasy didn’t last for long.”
“But those of Gustav did?” Tom persisted.
Bill huffed. “It’s not really like that.”
“What is it like then?”
“I care about him,” Bill admitted quietly. “I know he cares about me, so when I’m with him, I can be whatever I want to be, and it doesn’t matter if I’m not always happy and smiling and cheerful because he isn’t like that either, and sometimes we’ll sit together and just not say anything, and then I can feel everything going quiet inside, like my soul can rest. It’s like…like…”
“Like?” Tom prompted.
Bill bit his lip, hesitating. “A lot like I feel when I’m with you. But different.” He touched Tom’s arm, suddenly terrified that Tom might misunderstand him for the first time in their life. “Please don’t be mad!”
Tom glanced over at him. “I’m not mad, you fucking idiot, I want you to be happy! I just wish you’d told me earlier.”
Bill sighed. “But we’re friends, and there’s the band--”
Tom thumped the steering wheel with his fist and the horn squeaked in protest. “Oh, bullshit. What happened to, you’d do anything for true love?”
It was all too much at once. Bill felt his cheeks grow hot; whimpering, he covered his face with his hands.
“Come on!” Tom sounded unduly amused. “You’re the one with the sappy lyrics. If you can’t say you love one of your oldest, best friends, who can you say it about?”
“You,” Bill squawked. “Mom. Gordon. The dogs. Those are all safe choices.”
“Gustav isn’t?” Tom asked incredulously. “The guy’s as constant as the North star.”
Bill harrumphed. “What are you trying to do now? This morning you flew into a rage because I maybe sort of got a little flirty with Gustav, and now--”
“I didn’t fly into a rage.” Tom made a face. “And I wasn’t angry because you sweet-talked someone or because it was Gustav. I just, I thought we knew each other.”
“We do!” Bill said, startled. “You know everything about me that I know. Everything that’s worth knowing.”
“Everything about you is worth knowing,” Tom said curtly. He tore his eyes away from the black gravel of the street to pin Bill with a look. “Don’t edit, okay? It pisses me off.”
Bill smiled slowly. “Don’t you tell me to shut up all the time?”
“Never when it’s something important,” Tom said. He smirked. “Like, oh, who you’re in love with.”
“Shut up, I don’t even know.” Bill rubbed his feverish brow. It felt like champagne was running through his veins, prickling through his blood, making him lightheaded. “Shouldn’t you be all doubtful and unromantic and ruin this for me?”
“I want you to be happy,” Tom said. “I want you to have someone in your life who’ll look out for you. So you could have someone to go to when…if…”
“If what?” Bill mouth hung open in shock. “You’re not wishing yourself away again, are you.”
“No!” Tom assured him hurriedly. “It’s just, this whole thing has shown me you never know what might happen. Life’s pretty insane sometimes. I’d want you to have someone.”
“So you want to foist me on Gustav?” Bill exclaimed.
“You couldn’t bring me to leave you again for anything and you know it,” Tom said roughly. “Don’t be stupid.”
Yes, Bill knew that. They’d spent several days after Tom’s return practically joined at the hip; Bill had made long, tearful declarations of feeling, and even Tom had talked, about life and loss and missing Bill so much it felt like a part of him had been ripped out. Bill knew, he’d felt it too, deep inside. By some weird twist of fate, they had both experienced a complete loss of the other that was akin to death; neither of them would ever voluntarily go through that agony again.
“Hmph,” he made, and Tom chuckled quietly.
“As if I could ever foist you on anyone you didn’t want to be with,” he said, amused. “Please.”
“You’re damn right you couldn’t,” Bill retorted. He tugged his cardigan around him and snuggled into the soft wool, hugging himself and trying to get his quick, excited heartbeat under control.
It didn’t help when Tom said, “But since you like Gustav and obviously wouldn’t mind being with him,” he chanced a quick look at Bill, “what are we going to do?”
“We aren’t going to do anything,” Bill stated firmly. “If anything, I’m going to do it myself. And I don’t even know if I should, it is what it is, I like what it is, and what if I say something and he freaks out and it ruins our friendship and the band--”
“Gustav isn’t the type to freak out,” Tom said, and Bill had to admit that was true. “And besides, I saw what I saw. I’m sure of it now. You’re not imagining things.”
“You think?” Bill pondered this. It didn’t seem so unlikely; he and Gustav had always been close. Even when Gustav lectured Georg on clean bass lines or yelled at Tom for rushing the beat, he’d always treated Bill with indulgent patience although Bill wasn’t exactly known for his keen sense of rhythm. To Bill, he wasn’t the grumpy, taciturn drummer he liked to play for everyone else; he teased, he played, he was kind, attentive, quietly supportive when life tended to be fucking crazy. When Tom had suddenly disappeared, it had been Gustav who’d worried for Bill while Bill worried about everything else. He’d always been there when it counted. He was just…Gustav. Juschtel.
Bill looked over at his twin, disgruntled. “I feel all confused inside now. Thanks.”
Tom had the gall to grin. “Isn’t that what love’s supposed to feel like?”
Bill flipped him off. “Shut up and let me think. If I’m going to do this,” he drew a deep breath, “I need a strategy.”
“I feel sorry for Gustav already.”
Tom took the next exit, and the car slowed down as they drove through the snowy streets of the small town that had been their second home for years now. It was funny, really, that they’d wished themselves away from Loitsche only to end up at a farm on the fringes of the Lüneburg Heath. Bill watched the small houses speed by with unseeing eyes. At the studio, their friends would be waiting for them. Georg and Gustav.
Gustav. Even thinking the name now made his insides flutter with a million butterflies, and that was just no good if Bill was supposed to sing. He drew a few quick, deep breaths, willing himself to calm down. Rehearsals first. They had a tour to prepare. And if something happened in between…well. If Bill had learned anything from Tom’s journey through time, it was that what would be, would be.
But an idea had been kicked loose from the rubble under which Bill had buried it and was rattling around in his mind; now it could only roll, roll, roll.
“Bill?” Tom drove the car up the driveway to the front door and let it slow to a stop.
“Hmm?”
“I’m really, really glad it’s someone we know so well who’s making you feel this way,” Tom said gruffly, and then his hand was at the back of Bill’s neck, thumb stroking back and forth gently over the strip of bare skin that showed between his scarf and shirt. “Just, don’t keep secrets that big, okay?”
“I really didn’t hide anything from you on purpose,” Bill protested softly. “I couldn’t!”
“I didn’t think you could,” Tom sighed. “Not really. I guess this morning I was just…”
“Shocked?” Bill supplied, chuckling. “Tell me about it.”
Tom nodded. “So what now?”
“I don’t know. I’ll come up with something, okay? You’ll know when I do.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “Are we okay?”
“Sure.” Tom smiled and patted his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get him.”
Bill didn’t quite know if he found that idea exciting or terrifying. A bit of both, probably, like all good things, all things that were worth pursuing. He climbed out of the car and followed Tom into the studio. At the end of the hall, the door to the rehearsal room was open, and they could hear someone tapping out a few beats on the drums. Bill’s heartbeat sped up in time with the rhythm.
Tom turned his head, gave him a thumbs up, then, before Bill had a chance to brace himself, burst into the studio proper. “We’re here!”
Gustav was sitting at the drums when they entered. He smiled in welcome; Tom looked at their friend for a few long moments, then broke into a slightly manic grin. “Gustav!” He spread out his arms and caught their startled drummer in a bear hug. “Come here!”
“Um, hello Tom.” Gustav patted him lightly on the back, as if he feared too much encouragement would result in a prolonged cuddle fest. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Dude!” Tom drew back, smirking all over his face, and with a slow sinking feeling of dread, Bill realized his twin was gearing up to cause mischief. He wanted to rush over and kick Tom, but that would’ve meant getting close to Gustav too and Bill needed a few more moments to prepare himself for that.
Gustav was wearing a new blue-and-white checkered shirt with a prim little collar, probably a Christmas present from his mother. He was blinking rapidly behind his glasses, a sure sign that he was as off-balance as Bill felt, but altogether he looked entirely too cute and cuddly. Bill shuffled his feet on the edge of the rug, watching Tom bestow his affections on their drummer.
“I’m seeing you in a whole new light,” Tom declared, smiling, and an alarmed expression came over Gustav’s face.
“What does he mean?” he asked Bill warily.
“I have no idea,” Bill lied.
“We’re supposed to rehearse for the tour,” Gustav told Tom with the stern air of a cranky schoolmarm. “Whatever prank you’re planning, forget it now.”
“We’re not planning any pranks,” Bill said quickly. He nudged Tom aside and, before he could think about it too much, hugged Gustav too. “Hi, Juschtel. Happy new year.”
“Hey,” Gustav greeted, softening. He patted Bill’s shoulder gently. “Feeling better?”
“Lots.” Bill pulled back, smiling, and found that his brother had disappeared with the stealth of Jost lurking at awards shows. Georg’s voice came from the hall, cheerfully relating some new sex joke, and then he and Tom broke into wicked laughter. Bill jerked his head towards the door. “All’s back to normal.” Well, that wasn’t quite true, he thought as he looked into Gustav’s gruff, beloved face; but at least Tom was back, Tom knew, Tom was willing to help, and with Tom by his side, Bill could do anything. He inhaled deeply, smelling Gustav’s cologne and the sharp, lingering smoke of cigarettes and the adhesive on the tape that Gustav used to protect his fingers when he played drums. It smelled like coming home. Everything was as it should be.
“Good. I was worried about you,” Gustav said shortly. His eyes wandered up Bill’s face towards the black beanie he was wearing. “So let’s see the hair.”
Bill made a face, but tugged the beanie off. He still wasn’t quite used to the short cut he’d given himself. Without a hat, he felt cold, almost like he was naked. He shivered. “There.”
Gustav looked at him thoroughly from all sides, walking in a circle around Bill as if he was an art exhibit. “Well. It shows off more of your head and your, uh, face.”
“Is that good or bad?” Bill smiled.
“Always fishing for compliments, aren’t you,” Gustav said, amused. “You can pull it off if you want to. Aren’t you going to do anything about it?”
“Nah. Just grow it out again, I suppose,” Bill said. “I don’t feel like putting any fake shit on my head right now.”
“Good. I like your real hair,” Gustav said. He folded his arms across his chest and pulled up his shoulders. “I mean, I think it looks better.”
“Do you,” Bill smiled. Suddenly, he was feeling much less out of his depth. He was a Kaulitz. He could switch on the charm if he wanted to - he’d watched Tom do it a million times. “Well. I’m glad your dye job grew out, I always thought your natural color looked best.”
“Um. Thanks.” Gustav had perfected the art of the poker face, but he sounded a little flustered, Bill thought.
He grinned wickedly. “The brown looked so severe. You’re cute as a blond.”
Silence fell. Gustav seemed at a loss for words. Smiling to himself, Bill busied himself with the zipper on his coat. He could be patient when he needed to be.
Eventually, Gustav cleared his throat. “Why are we talking about hair?”
“You started it,” Bill laughed. He flung the coat over the back of the chair he usually occupied in the small circle that had been set up for their rehearsal session. He kept his back to Gustav, giving the drummer a moment to himself. He knew how Gustav hated it when there were eyes on him constantly.
“Right.” Gustav sounded embarrassed. “We should get started. Where are the others?”
Bill listened for noises in the hall, but the house was quiet. It was just the four of them today; maybe Tom and Georg had gone out for a smoke, or to fuss over one of their cars again. Sending a mental thank you towards Tom, Bill flopped down on the couch and stretched out his long legs. “I’ll go get them in a minute. Hey, come here. I wanted to talk to you.”
Gustav cautiously drew nearer, as if he wasn’t quite sure it was a good idea to get too close to Bill. He sat down at the other end of the couch. “What?” he asked brusquely.
Bill smiled. When Gustav began to resemble a snapping turtle, that was usually a sign that whatever was happening was getting to him. “I wanted to thank you,” Bill said gently. “Y’know, for being there for me when Tom was gone.”
“Of course!” Gustav said, surprised. “I wish I could’ve done more. Something that would’ve actually helped.”
“You did help me. Knowing you were there…it felt good.”
Gustav nodded. “I’m glad.” He studied his feet. There was a long pause. “You seemed so sad.”
“I was very sad,” Bill agreed quietly.
Gustav raised his head to pin him with a look that seemed to penetrate the depths of Bill’s soul and made his heart jump as if with an electric shock. “But you’re okay now, right?”
“I’m okay,” Bill assured him. He shivered, and suddenly felt really silly. He hugged his arms around himself and crossed his legs. “How are you doing?”
Gustav actually looked befuddled, as if he rarely spared a thought for his own self. “Me? Um. I’m fine. You know, the usual. Had a nice quiet Christmas with the family, met a few friends, hung out with my sister. Nothing special. I was looking forward to coming back here. Playing drums, joking around with Georg, smacking down Tom…”
“And me?” Bill inquired, grinning. “What’s our usual operating method?”
“That depends,” Gustav said wisely.
“On what?”
“Oh, many things. Your mood, Tom’s mood, the weather, if it’s a good hair day or not…”
“And again with the hair,” Bill grinned.
“Don’t tell me hair isn’t important,” Gustav teased.
Bill was glad for the familiar, lighthearted tone. Maybe going for an intense conversation was a little much when the hurts of Tom’s disappearance and the stress of that morning’s fight had barely faded. “It is,” he laughed. He ran his hand through his short, spiky black hair. After his nightly haircut, all Natalie had been able to do was even out the length at the top to match that at the sides and tell him to be patient or wear a wig. Come to think of it, Bill actually quite liked it. His head felt lighter.
“When I talked to Tom that morning and he said you’d cut your hair, I was so close to getting in my car and driving up here,” Gustav admitted, sobering again in an instant.
Bill gave him a startled look. “Without a license? And on Christmas Eve? Your family would’ve been so disappointed.”
Gustav shrugged. “You…you guys are family too. I would’ve come if you’d asked.”
Bill suddenly felt a rush of affection that made it impossible to not reach out and hug Gustav close. His pulse sped up with the feel of the other man in his arms, Gustav’s breath warm on his neck and his strong back rippling under Bill’s hands, but first and foremost, before anything else, they were friends; friends who’d been at the top of the world together, and down at its lowest low. Bill vowed never to forget that. “I know,” he murmured into Gustav’s shoulder. “I would’ve come for you too.”
They held on to each other for a few long moments. “Right.” Gustav cleared his throat. “Come on, let’s go get them. Heaven help us, I bet they’ve forgotten all their chords.”
Bill let him go, but his hand lingered between Gustav’s shoulder blades, stroked down along his spine, smoothing out a wrinkle in Gustav’s shirt. He smiled. “As long as you still know your beats, I think we’ll be fine.”
Gustav actually blushed, and Bill mentally marked one point on the Gustav score chart. His smile turned saucy. He could do this. He was ready - hell, if he thought about it, he’d been ready for years. He was most definitely willing, and totally on top of all things Gustav. He could do this. He--
Gustav caught his arm. His broad, callused palm wrapped around Bill’s wrist and squeezed, fingers tightening around his arm in a perfect circle. He peered up at Bill through pale lashes; their eyes met, and Gustav smiled his rare, shy smile. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ve got you covered,” and Bill knew he was lost.
He floated down the hall in Gustav’s wake, his head spinning, the rhythmic squeaking of Gustav’s sneakers on the PVC floor the only thing anchoring him to the here and now. Outside, in the cold winter air of the yard, he felt like his feet were barely touching the gravelly ground; like his chest was filled with helium gas and he could rise into the sky like a balloon, suddenly light with giddiness.
Tom was sitting on the hood of his car, having a smoke with Georg. He took one look at Bill and made a grab for him, settling Bill firmly against his side. He shoved the cigarette between his fingers and Bill took a long, grateful drag. Tom’s arm came around him; his hand curled around Bill’s elbow, squeezing gently, It’s okay, calm down. His warmth at Bill’s side was soothing. Bill knew he had to keep it together if he wanted to function for their rehearsal session, and besides, he couldn’t just jump Gustav suddenly, after all these years, without any sort of preparation.
No matter how much he might have liked to.
“Hey, Georg,” he sighed on a long exhalation of smoke. “Happy new year.”
“You look overwhelmed already,” Georg grinned. “Did Gustav tell you about his rehearsal timetable?”
“You want to play a good tour, don’t you,” Gustav said. “You know you’ll never be on time if I don’t hold you to a strict schedule.”
“Excuse me for having a life,” Georg laughed. “Don’t be jealous, it’s your own fault you’re all single.”
“No it’s not,” Gustav muttered.
Georg whistled. “Oh, what’s that? Got your eye on someone, Juschtel?”
Gustav sighed his long-suffering sigh. “Can we start? If you’re not ready, I’ll go ride my bike for a while.”
“In this weather?” Bill shivered just thinking of a bike ride through winter wind and frozen streets. “You’ll just fall and break something.”
“And you’ll catch cold out here without a jacket, and then you won’t be able to sing,” Gustav retorted. “Inside now, all of you!”
“All right, mom!” Georg rubbed his hands. “It is cold. Are you coming?”
“We’ll just finish the cigarette,” Tom said, and Georg and Gustav went ahead into the house, having long been used to the twins needing moments to themselves.
Alone together, Tom stole the cigarette back from Bill. “So?”
“So? Nothing yet!” Bill said indignantly. “Give me a few hours to adjust, okay? And him.” Especially Gustav; Bill himself was quick to adapt to an idea when he had decided he liked it. And he liked this one, quite a lot.
“You looked totally lovestruck when you came out,” Tom smirked. “Like those cartoon characters with little pink hearts in their eyes?”
“Shut up.” Bill grabbed at the cigarette and almost burned his fingers.
“What happened? What did you talk about?” Tom was insistent; after that morning’s discovery, Bill couldn’t even blame him, although he was at a loss as to what to tell Tom.
“Nothing, really. We joked around a bit, about my hair and his hair… I told him thank you for taking care of me while you were gone.” He nudged Tom’s shoulder with his own when Tom frowned at that; the guilt was still weighing him down, Bill knew. “And then we hugged.”
“Aha!” Tom said.
“He seemed a little flustered,” Bill allowed. “And he’s nice to me, but there isn’t really anything that’s more than friendly. Nothing that couldn’t be explained away.” He faltered. Maybe they’d gotten it wrong after all; or, even if they hadn’t, maybe Gustav simply didn’t want to act on these feelings between them just like Bill hadn’t dared to.
Until now.
Bill sighed. There was no going back now, not with the way he felt. Snuffing the small, burning flame of hope would kill something inside, that warm, affectionate feeling for Gustav that he now realized he’d carried with him for a long time. Oh, their professional relationship would remain unchanged, the band would be safe, but Bill didn’t think he could ever look at Gustav the same way now, even if he wanted to. And he didn’t. He didn’t.
“But it’s too late,” he whispered. “It’s already too late. I can’t not try.”
“Good,” was Tom’s estimation. “You suck at not trying. You’d explode.”
“Maybe,” Bill allowed, chuckling. Tom’s confidence was heartening. “But maybe we should rehearse some first, or Gustav will explode. We’re probably already behind on his timetable.”
“Right.” Tom actually looked intrigued at that. Charts appealed to his OCD tendencies; if Gustav had been smart enough to color-code their timetable, Tom was bound to jump at it, and then rehearsals would really get intense.
Bill smiled at the thought. “Come on, let’s take a look.”
Title: Into the blue (1/2)
Pairing: Bill/Gustav
Rating: PG13
Summary: Tom has returned from the past with some insights which cause friction between the twins and threaten to upset the dynamic of the band.
The new year started off quietly, just like Tom liked. Experience taught that the calm wouldn’t last, so he would make the most of it while it did. He’d make the most of every day, just because he could: Tom was back home.
The old, familiar routine of his life suddenly had a novelty to it that felt magical. For the first few days after his return from the past, Tom walked around the house with the tentative wonder of a newly-healed man who’d risen from his sickbed at long last after a deep, fitful slumber. Everything looked new and shiny; the cool winter air tasted fresher than any other breaths he’d ever taken. He basked in the presence of his twin, who seemed determined to attach himself to Tom’s side permanently and thus spared Tom the awkwardness of wanting to attach himself to Bill; spending the first few days within arm’s reach of each other calmed the storm that had raged in Tom’s soul.
He was home. They were safe, together.
Every day now brought an appreciation of being in the here and now. When Tom woke up, it was with a smile. As he went about his day, there was joy in every single little thing: the first quiet notes he coaxed from his favorite guitar, the feel of his own, well-worn clothes, the kisses of his mother, who was overjoyed to have him back. If adjusting to the new-old world around him that was shaped by two different sets of memories and experiences now had felt strange at first, he soon found that he didn’t much care about what, exactly, had happened, as long as the solid foundations of his life were untouched. And they were. He was Tom, he was a guitarist, and he had his twin. Everything else was just details.
There was only one thing he hadn’t figured out among all the new realizations, one thing that puzzled him, but strangely enough, it was not one that had been affected at all by the events that had transpired in the course of his time travel adventure. Quite the opposite: what he’d observed, to his befuddlement, had turned out just the same in both timelines, as his memory told him, and the parallel images of the past five years which he had, effectively, lived twice only enhanced each other in their clarity. It was silly, really, that he’d never seen what had happened right under his nose, but then, he hadn’t properly appreciated a lot of things.
Gustav, their taciturn drummer and one of their oldest friends, was secretly in love with Bill.
Thus was Tom’s conclusion after watching two incarnations of Gustavs tiptoe around Bill from the vantage point of temporal displacement, and he’d be damned if he just let that slide without comment. He couldn’t believe Bill had no clue that their Grumpy Bear of a drummer had harbored feelings for him for years, he was the emotional one after all. The question remained why Bill had never brought the subject up to Tom, and this was what puzzled Tom more than the realization itself. They didn’t keep secrets between them, so either Bill was oblivious or he was so uncomfortable with the thought of Gustav’s secret crush that he didn’t want to touch on it, neither of which seemed plausible to Tom.
It was all very mysterious, and getting more so with each day that passed, the end of the year quietly blending into the beginning of the new one. They were holed up at home, the world locked out after their mom and Gordon and the dogs had departed to let them tend to their busy work schedule. Truthfully, the first few days of the new year didn’t see much work getting done, but Tom simply refused to stress about that. They both still needed a bit of peace and quiet to wind down, sort through new-old memories together, enjoy the closeness of just sitting on the couch with no more than a hand’s breadth of space between them and their pinkies linked.
The only connection with the world they maintained was through their phones, and Tom soon noticed a pattern there that had been too long established for him to pick up on until he’d been pulled from his reality and forced to contemplate it from a distance. Every morning at nine o’clock, the phone would ring. Sometimes, when they were still too sleepy from a late night movie or just generally unwilling to face anyone but each other, it would go unanswered, but with the two of them keeping close, Tom couldn’t help but notice that more often than not Bill would actually drag his ass out of bed to answer the insistent caller and that alone was reason for surprise.
Needless to say, no one but Gustav Schäfer would have the balls to wake a Kaulitz at such an ungodly hour.
“Is that Gustav again?” he groaned when January the third was rung in by the shrill noise of the phone. Blindly, he reached out and smacked at the mattress beside him until he hit a bony arm. “Tell him to cut it out!”
“Aw,” Bill muttered, “let him, it’s sweet. He’s just checking in, he was so worried when you were gone.”
Seeing as he’d been back for over a week, Tom didn’t really think that argument was holding up, but Bill was already groping the nightstand for the phone. “Hey, Gustaaaaaaaav,” he yawned. “You woke us up.”
The whole telephone routine had, if Tom’s memory served, started as prank calls after the twins had sicced some hotel’s wake up call service on Gustav. Ever since, the drummer seemed to have taken it upon himself to wake them personally, and only now did Tom see that he might have a vested interest in the early morning calls. Bill yelling nasty things into the receiver after being rudely awakened wasn’t generally a thrilling experience, but on the whole, Tom sympathized: he too knew what it was like to hear Bill’s obnoxious voice and find it the most pleasant thing ever.
On the other end of the line, Tom could hear Gustav say something about early birds.
“We wouldn’t eat worms anyway, we’re vegetarians,” Bill informed him. He flopped back down on the bed and nestled close to Tom. “How’re you doing?”
“How are you doing?” came Gustav’s voice from the phone. “Everything all right over there?”
“Sure,” Bill murmured, already halfway back in dreamland with the soothing growl of Gustav’s voice lulling him to sleep.
“Except that we went to bed four hours ago and you woke us up,” Tom complained loudly.
“Hi, Tom,” Gustav said, amused. “You’re there too? Honestly, guys, why do you even have that large house, you’d be just fine sharing a broom closet.”
“I need my walk-in wardrobe,” Bill said. “And my own bathroom. It’s work space, really. Being so beautiful is a full-time job.”
“Really, I thought that came naturally to you,” Gustav teased, and Tom rolled his eyes so hard they almost fell out of their sockets. How he’d never seen Gustav’s pathetic attempts at flirting for what they were, he didn’t know. Bill, though, seemed to enjoy them, so Tom figured he’d let that one go.
Bill smiled an impish little smile. “Well, actually--”
“Right now, he has bags under his eyes,” Tom cut in. “And morning breath.”
Bill hit him over the head with a pillow, so Tom missed the next thing Gustav said. He surfaced again, red-faced, from under the down, to hear Bill giggle and say, “Aw, Gustav, that’s so sweet.”
Tom clutched the pillow in both fists and stared. Bill’s eyes were half closed; he was smiling beatifically at the ceiling, relishing whatever compliment Gustav had just made him, and suddenly Tom’s insides burned with some blistering hot emotion.
Bill was happy, and the rippling waves of his joy washed over Tom, mingling oddly with the shock that felt like a punch to Tom’s gut. His twin wasn’t oblivious, he wasn’t uncomfortable talking to Gustav, none of that at all. Bill loved listening to Gustav’s voice, loved whatever sweet thing Gustav told him, and he’d zealously guarded these moments of secret joy for who-knows-how long, unwilling to share them with Tom. How long had it been since Gustav started calling, started infringing on their everyday life?
Tom dropped the pillow. He felt raw; moving, sitting up, climbing out of bed actually hurt. He didn’t want to watch Bill getting breathy and heavy-lidded like some housewife gearing up to boost the grocery budget with some vanilla phone sex. “Tell him to fuck off,” he snapped. “He fucking woke us up.”
Bill flinched. His eyes snapped open. “Gustav,” he said, his voice suddenly crisp, “I have to go, okay? See you later for practice.”
Gustav said something, and Bill hung up. He tossed the phone at the foot of the bed, never taking his eyes off Tom. “What’s wrong?”
Tom jerked his head at the phone. “He’s a fucking idiot!”
“No he isn’t,” Bill said instantly, and Tom’s fury rose coldly inside like a snow storm.
“Don’t start telling me now what he is and isn’t to you!”
Bill sat up straight in bed. “You’re not making any sense.”
“I’m not making any sense? How about any of this?” Tom snapped.
“Any of what?” Bill actually looked around in confusion. “What’s going on? I don’t get it, we were having such a nice time--”
His befuddlement made Tom want to smack him. “Yeah, well, except that you were, oh, lying to me the entire time!”
“I, what?” Bill asked, hurt. He reached out, but Tom stepped back. “I’d never lie to you about anything, what are you even talking about!”
“Gustav,” Tom spat. “Stop playing innocent, you know exactly what I mean!”
Bill’s hands, reaching for Tom a moment ago, clenched into tight fists. His wide eyes narrowed, and Tom could all but feel him shutting himself in, drawing away. “I have no idea what you mean,” he said, low. His movements jerky, he flung back the blankets and jumped out of bed. “And I sure have no fucking idea why you want to fight when we swore we’d appreciate each day we have together from now on.”
Tom winced. Bill was pushing past him, fists rubbing furiously at his eyes, and Tom suddenly felt all the pointlessness of his anger come crashing down on him. He made a grab for his twin and caught a corner of Bill’s t-shirt. “Hey, wait,” he said, quieter now. “Where are you going?”
“My room,” Bill’s voice was quavering dangerously. He’d been ridiculously emotional ever since Tom had returned, waterworks starting at every tiny little thing; it was lucky Tom was ridiculously emotional to match, even if he wasn’t prone to sudden bursts of crying.
“Oh, don’t,” Tom said, reeling him in easily by his shirt so he could put his arms around Bill. “Sorry, I just… I didn’t mean… I guess we couldn’t hope to be hundred percent peaceful all the time, huh.”
Bill chuckled wetly. “We made it eight days, that’s pretty good for us.”
“Yeah.” Tom patted the back of his newly shorn head, and Bill grabbed handfuls of Tom’s cornrows and held on with a death grip. Tom squirmed.
“Why’re you so mad all of a sudden?” Bill asked.
“I…” Tom sighed. He was now pretty sure he knew what he’d thought he knew, but putting it all into words seemed overwhelming before a hot shower, some breakfast and the first morning coffee. Bill’s secrecy was still a smarting pain like a hard slap to the head, and Tom knew he’d have to be careful broaching the subject or he’d fly off the handle and then Bill would fly off the handle too and all of the vows Tom had made to himself about what his life would and wouldn’t be from now on would go out the window.
“Can we brush our teeth and get dressed and have a civilized discussion?” he sighed. “Please? It’s…not easy to explain.”
Bill pulled back, searching Tom’s face. “Is it something to do with the new memories?” Those had caused some confusion before, so the question was fair.
Tom grimaced. “Kind of. Not really. Come on, go take a shower, you smell. I’ll make coffee and then we’ll talk.”
“We need to get to the studio,” Bill reminded him.
Tom cursed. Their appointment with the others was at noon, tour preparation was starting, they needed to function as a band, but right then, Tom didn’t know how if he could stomach seeing his brother with Gustav. Jealousy made him twitch as if a hundred needles were poking his skin from the inside. “Crap.”
Bill looked at him oddly. “You’d take a nice long talk over the first rehearsal session of the year? Huh. Something’s really bothering you, isn’t it.”
Tom bit at his lip and nodded.
“Okay,” Bill said. “Showers, breakfast, and then we can talk in the car on the way. Deal?”
“Deal,” Tom said.
Bill touched his shoulder, his palm lingering gently on the side of Tom’s neck. “We’ll figure it out together, okay? No problem we can’t solve.”
Tom sincerely hoped so.
***
It was the first day of tour preparation in the new year, and Bill had been bouncing with excitement for it for days. The very first rehearsal session was always special, all four band members regarded it as the precedent that’d set the mood for the rest of the year, but this time it was even more of a reason for cheer. It was a band reunion. Tom was back.
The joy of this had still not worn off, even after the strange fight Tom had kicked off that morning. When Bill looked at his twin, his heart skipped a beat, even though Tom was just doing silly everyday things like brushing his teeth or making coffee or painstakingly sorting Bill’s CDs in ways that were mysterious and unfathomable to anyone but him and usually got on Bill’s nerves. Not this time.
He’d never take anything for granted again. Not the quiet background noise of Tom practicing guitar, not his weird pasta, not the solid warmth of him when Bill snuggled up to his twin on the couch. Especially not his quiet, comforting presence when Bill was high-strung and unhappy and needed something he couldn’t say, something only Tom ever knew how to give.
Tom was back and Bill had been walking on fluffy pink clouds of twinly happiness, just like Tom, who’d been almost shockingly attentive and tender until he’d snapped that morning. Truthfully, he’d been behaving a little strangely ever since he’d been back, but Bill had attributed that to the stress of time travel and the confusion of the new memories. Now he wondered if there might not be something else to it.
Tom had related every minute detail of his time travelling adventure to Bill; he’d returned from 2005 relieved and quietly joyful to be back, he slept better than he had in years, but something was up and Bill wanted to know what it was and now, before it upset any more of the blissful calm that had wrapped them up inside their little bubble for the past days.
Bill knew they had to venture outside again eventually, but the winter wind felt harsh and cold when he stepped outside; for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into his bed, pull the blankets over his head and sleep the day away. There was a weird tension in the air as he climbed into Tom’s car; they often shared amicable silences, there was nothing more comfortable to Bill than letting his mind drift, only to eventually arrive at the exact same thought Tom did. Today, though, their connection was out of whack, crackling with static, and the only thing that could usually clear the air was a good fight. Bill didn’t feel like fighting, but when they pulled out into the street and Tom remained quiet, he decided that tackling the subject head-on was preferable to the strangely charged silence that was giving him a headache.
“Okay. So what’s on your mind?”
Tom glanced at him, startled. “Huh? I was just thinking how great it is to be able to drive.”
Bill smiled. The first thing Tom had done after his return and a good day’s sleep had been to inspect every square centimeter of his car, berating Bill for letting young Tom drive it all the while. Bill had sat with his socked feet propped up on the dashboard while Tom crawled half under his seat in search of damage, thoroughly enjoying the lecture.
“Aw,” he cooed. “You must’ve missed your baby so much.”
“Not as much as I missed you,” Tom said levelly, never taking his eyes off the street. “Dammit, Bill.”
Bill drew a deep, shuddering breath. “So tell me why you’re mad at me, so we can be okay.”
Tom shrugged, carefully nonchalant. “It’s something younger Tom saw. While he was here. Something that I think I saw too while I was there. But the memory was kind of fuzzy, so I wasn’t sure I got it right. Until this morning.”
Having new memories fitting themselves in between the old had been a strange sensation. The older Tom’s visit to Loitsche had thrown Bill’s timeline for a loop too even though he himself had stayed where he was. The disruption in the normal course of events had set things in motion on a timeline parallel to a past that had already happened. Mostly the two were the same - all the big things had remained as they’d been, and a lot of small details were lost and forgotten over time anyway - but sometimes they weren’t and even now, startling new images occasionally popped up before Bill’s inner eye. Sometimes it was hard to fit them into the right place that was already occupied by some other, different memory, just like that of Bill’s first meeting with Nena, to which he distinctly remembered wearing two completely different outfits. The two memories remained sort of awkwardly side by side, different versions of the same story. Who knew what Tom had seen, or hadn’t, or both.
“Tell me,” Bill encouraged. They usually had more luck sorting things out together. “I was here with the younger Tom, I might remember.”
Tom hesitated. “Will you tell me the truth about it if I tell you?”
Bill stared at him, an eyebrow raised. “Um, yes? Seriously, Tom.”
Tom threw him a quick, hard glance. “Gustav called our house on Christmas morning, didn’t he.”
“As usual, yeah.”
“As usual.” Tom’s hands clenched around the steering wheel. “He was worried about you.”
“Yes? So? I was a little…out of my mind.”
“Yeah, so this is where it got fuzzy. I think Tom didn’t really know what to think, that’s why it was so unclear.” A traffic light switched to red. Tom brought the car to a stop and turned to focus his full attention on Bill. “He thought Gustav really, really cared about you.”
Bill sat very, very still as realization dawned on him, scared to move and have the whole construct of Tom’s careful explanation come crashing down upon him. “What do you mean?”
Tom snorted like an angry bull. “You know what I mean!”
It took a moment for the suggestion to really sink in. It wasn’t a new thought, but Bill had never discussed it with Tom and so it had remained insubstantial, a mere figment of his imagination. Now that Tom was bringing it up, Bill felt flustered and unprepared. Color rose slowly in his pale cheeks. “Really.”
“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” Tom snapped, and Bill blushed a deeper shade of red.
“I thought maybe I was reading stuff into the things he’d sometimes do,” he admitted quietly. “Because Gustav isn’t generally…”
“Well, you aren’t, generally,” Tom said. “But if it’s true, how did I miss that? And how could you not tell me?”
“We work with him 350 days of the year,” Bill pointed out. “It’s easy to miss the big picture when you’re so close. That’s why I wasn’t even sure there was anything to tell. I didn’t know if I was getting it right either.”
“Right.” The traffic light turned green. The car accelerated again. They were leaving the city behind now, driving out onto the autobahn. “So what’s going on?”
Bill squirmed a little in his seat. Tom sounded impatient, like he was expecting a good answer, but Bill didn’t have one. “Nothing. I don’t know.”
Of course, Tom had to tackle the difficult question. “How do you feel about him?”
“I…” Bill swallowed hard around a lump that was suddenly choking him up. He and Gustav…the idea had only ever been a distant fantasy; he couldn’t allow himself anything more when so much was at stake for the band. But now that the thought was out in the open, voiced out loud by Tom no less, it suddenly seemed much more tangible. Bill didn’t quite know what to do with that. “I… I…”
“Wow,” Tom ground out. He turned his head to stare at Bill, unmindful of the fact that he was currently approaching 180 km/h. “Gustav? Really? And you didn’t tell me? What the fuck, Bill?”
Bill toyed with the zipper of his jacket, pulled it up and down, up and down, up and down, unable to meet his brother’s eyes. “There was nothing to tell.”
“You like him!” Tom exclaimed. “That’s more than enough! How long has this been going on?”
“Nothing happened! Ever!” Bill swore. “Not in the one timeline, nor in the other.” In fact, his relationship with Gustav had been one of the things that hadn’t changed at all. Gustav had remained consistent, the quiet presence at Bill’s back that balanced out the crazy pull of the audience on stage, the steady life’s pulse that kept him contained when the rush of their job threatened to sweep him up and along, faster, too fast.
He was Bill’s opposite in every way: all light to Bill’s dark glamour, raw power to his apparent frailty, the comfortable quiet in which Bill’s words seemed witty and quick. The contrast between them was striking, and if they’d been different people, it might have pulled them apart, but no matter what Bill did, to what heights he climbed, Gustav remained wryly supportive, never judging, but never conforming to the pressure of fame either. His quiet strength matched Bill’s loud assertiveness; Bill respected that.
It could’ve always remained that way. He could’ve suppressed whatever he felt and masked any outburst of affection behind his often-declared longing for true love if Tom hadn’t decided to step in and make a big mess out of everything Bill had so carefully sorted away inside. Damn fate for reshuffling all the pieces of the game. “Fuck.”
Tom’s hard look seemed to grip him tight, pull him in and squeeze him until the truth came out. “How long, Bill?”
“I don’t know! I really don’t! He’s been a friend forever--”
“You like him as more than a friend! Stop bullshitting me!”
“I’m not!” Bill’s voice rose high and shrill with annoyance. “It changed so slowly, so little at a time that I didn’t even know anything had changed until…until…”
“Until when?” Tom asked.
“Until I started having fantasies about him,” Bill forced out. He ducked his head, sheepish. “I don’t know, a couple of years ago?”
“Years?” Tom kicked down the gas pedal in shock. Roaring, the car lurched forward, leaving behind the bright lights of the others. “And you didn’t tell me? I tell you everything!”
“I tell you everything too!” Bill cried.
Tom thumped his shoulder hard with one fist. “You didn’t tell me he liked you. You didn’t tell me you liked him! All these years you went around with this, this thing between you two and you didn’t let me in on it!”
“There’s no thing!” Bill insisted. “Really, there isn’t!”
“All those times he called in the morning, only to hear your voice?” Tom snapped.
“That’s not true!” Bill protested, flushing. “He’s our friend! You talk to him just as much as I.”
That seemed to take the wind out of Tom’s sails. He opened and closed his mouth a few times like a sullen fish. “I don’t get flirty with him!”
“I don’t get flirty with him either!” Bill exclaimed.
Tom gave him a look. “Yeah, you do.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“No!”
“Yes, fuck you, I watched you this morning!” Tom squawked indignantly.
It was Bill’s turn to gape. “All I said was… And then he said…” His eyes went wide. “Oh. Well.”
His shock seemed to ground Tom again, too. His lips twitched. “You really have no fucking clue?” Tom shook his head. “Man, you’re so out of the loop with this whole romance thing, I always told you it wasn’t healthy to go without for so long.”
“Shut up,” Bill said tonelessly.
“You fucking idiot,” Tom said, but his tone lacked real heat now. “You stupid ass. We could’ve talked about this, we can talk about anything.”
“Would you really want to know what I picture doing with Gustav when I get off?” Bill deadpanned.
Tom grimaced. “Good point.”
“And besides, I’ve also thought about Georg that way, occasionally, and that doesn’t mean anything at all--”
Tom’s face seemed to have morphed into a perpetual mask of horror. “The Hobbit? Even though you know how he smells in the morning?”
“His hair is nice.” Bill laughed quietly. “But, yeah, that fantasy didn’t last for long.”
“But those of Gustav did?” Tom persisted.
Bill huffed. “It’s not really like that.”
“What is it like then?”
“I care about him,” Bill admitted quietly. “I know he cares about me, so when I’m with him, I can be whatever I want to be, and it doesn’t matter if I’m not always happy and smiling and cheerful because he isn’t like that either, and sometimes we’ll sit together and just not say anything, and then I can feel everything going quiet inside, like my soul can rest. It’s like…like…”
“Like?” Tom prompted.
Bill bit his lip, hesitating. “A lot like I feel when I’m with you. But different.” He touched Tom’s arm, suddenly terrified that Tom might misunderstand him for the first time in their life. “Please don’t be mad!”
Tom glanced over at him. “I’m not mad, you fucking idiot, I want you to be happy! I just wish you’d told me earlier.”
Bill sighed. “But we’re friends, and there’s the band--”
Tom thumped the steering wheel with his fist and the horn squeaked in protest. “Oh, bullshit. What happened to, you’d do anything for true love?”
It was all too much at once. Bill felt his cheeks grow hot; whimpering, he covered his face with his hands.
“Come on!” Tom sounded unduly amused. “You’re the one with the sappy lyrics. If you can’t say you love one of your oldest, best friends, who can you say it about?”
“You,” Bill squawked. “Mom. Gordon. The dogs. Those are all safe choices.”
“Gustav isn’t?” Tom asked incredulously. “The guy’s as constant as the North star.”
Bill harrumphed. “What are you trying to do now? This morning you flew into a rage because I maybe sort of got a little flirty with Gustav, and now--”
“I didn’t fly into a rage.” Tom made a face. “And I wasn’t angry because you sweet-talked someone or because it was Gustav. I just, I thought we knew each other.”
“We do!” Bill said, startled. “You know everything about me that I know. Everything that’s worth knowing.”
“Everything about you is worth knowing,” Tom said curtly. He tore his eyes away from the black gravel of the street to pin Bill with a look. “Don’t edit, okay? It pisses me off.”
Bill smiled slowly. “Don’t you tell me to shut up all the time?”
“Never when it’s something important,” Tom said. He smirked. “Like, oh, who you’re in love with.”
“Shut up, I don’t even know.” Bill rubbed his feverish brow. It felt like champagne was running through his veins, prickling through his blood, making him lightheaded. “Shouldn’t you be all doubtful and unromantic and ruin this for me?”
“I want you to be happy,” Tom said. “I want you to have someone in your life who’ll look out for you. So you could have someone to go to when…if…”
“If what?” Bill mouth hung open in shock. “You’re not wishing yourself away again, are you.”
“No!” Tom assured him hurriedly. “It’s just, this whole thing has shown me you never know what might happen. Life’s pretty insane sometimes. I’d want you to have someone.”
“So you want to foist me on Gustav?” Bill exclaimed.
“You couldn’t bring me to leave you again for anything and you know it,” Tom said roughly. “Don’t be stupid.”
Yes, Bill knew that. They’d spent several days after Tom’s return practically joined at the hip; Bill had made long, tearful declarations of feeling, and even Tom had talked, about life and loss and missing Bill so much it felt like a part of him had been ripped out. Bill knew, he’d felt it too, deep inside. By some weird twist of fate, they had both experienced a complete loss of the other that was akin to death; neither of them would ever voluntarily go through that agony again.
“Hmph,” he made, and Tom chuckled quietly.
“As if I could ever foist you on anyone you didn’t want to be with,” he said, amused. “Please.”
“You’re damn right you couldn’t,” Bill retorted. He tugged his cardigan around him and snuggled into the soft wool, hugging himself and trying to get his quick, excited heartbeat under control.
It didn’t help when Tom said, “But since you like Gustav and obviously wouldn’t mind being with him,” he chanced a quick look at Bill, “what are we going to do?”
“We aren’t going to do anything,” Bill stated firmly. “If anything, I’m going to do it myself. And I don’t even know if I should, it is what it is, I like what it is, and what if I say something and he freaks out and it ruins our friendship and the band--”
“Gustav isn’t the type to freak out,” Tom said, and Bill had to admit that was true. “And besides, I saw what I saw. I’m sure of it now. You’re not imagining things.”
“You think?” Bill pondered this. It didn’t seem so unlikely; he and Gustav had always been close. Even when Gustav lectured Georg on clean bass lines or yelled at Tom for rushing the beat, he’d always treated Bill with indulgent patience although Bill wasn’t exactly known for his keen sense of rhythm. To Bill, he wasn’t the grumpy, taciturn drummer he liked to play for everyone else; he teased, he played, he was kind, attentive, quietly supportive when life tended to be fucking crazy. When Tom had suddenly disappeared, it had been Gustav who’d worried for Bill while Bill worried about everything else. He’d always been there when it counted. He was just…Gustav. Juschtel.
Bill looked over at his twin, disgruntled. “I feel all confused inside now. Thanks.”
Tom had the gall to grin. “Isn’t that what love’s supposed to feel like?”
Bill flipped him off. “Shut up and let me think. If I’m going to do this,” he drew a deep breath, “I need a strategy.”
“I feel sorry for Gustav already.”
Tom took the next exit, and the car slowed down as they drove through the snowy streets of the small town that had been their second home for years now. It was funny, really, that they’d wished themselves away from Loitsche only to end up at a farm on the fringes of the Lüneburg Heath. Bill watched the small houses speed by with unseeing eyes. At the studio, their friends would be waiting for them. Georg and Gustav.
Gustav. Even thinking the name now made his insides flutter with a million butterflies, and that was just no good if Bill was supposed to sing. He drew a few quick, deep breaths, willing himself to calm down. Rehearsals first. They had a tour to prepare. And if something happened in between…well. If Bill had learned anything from Tom’s journey through time, it was that what would be, would be.
But an idea had been kicked loose from the rubble under which Bill had buried it and was rattling around in his mind; now it could only roll, roll, roll.
“Bill?” Tom drove the car up the driveway to the front door and let it slow to a stop.
“Hmm?”
“I’m really, really glad it’s someone we know so well who’s making you feel this way,” Tom said gruffly, and then his hand was at the back of Bill’s neck, thumb stroking back and forth gently over the strip of bare skin that showed between his scarf and shirt. “Just, don’t keep secrets that big, okay?”
“I really didn’t hide anything from you on purpose,” Bill protested softly. “I couldn’t!”
“I didn’t think you could,” Tom sighed. “Not really. I guess this morning I was just…”
“Shocked?” Bill supplied, chuckling. “Tell me about it.”
Tom nodded. “So what now?”
“I don’t know. I’ll come up with something, okay? You’ll know when I do.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “Are we okay?”
“Sure.” Tom smiled and patted his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get him.”
Bill didn’t quite know if he found that idea exciting or terrifying. A bit of both, probably, like all good things, all things that were worth pursuing. He climbed out of the car and followed Tom into the studio. At the end of the hall, the door to the rehearsal room was open, and they could hear someone tapping out a few beats on the drums. Bill’s heartbeat sped up in time with the rhythm.
Tom turned his head, gave him a thumbs up, then, before Bill had a chance to brace himself, burst into the studio proper. “We’re here!”
Gustav was sitting at the drums when they entered. He smiled in welcome; Tom looked at their friend for a few long moments, then broke into a slightly manic grin. “Gustav!” He spread out his arms and caught their startled drummer in a bear hug. “Come here!”
“Um, hello Tom.” Gustav patted him lightly on the back, as if he feared too much encouragement would result in a prolonged cuddle fest. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Dude!” Tom drew back, smirking all over his face, and with a slow sinking feeling of dread, Bill realized his twin was gearing up to cause mischief. He wanted to rush over and kick Tom, but that would’ve meant getting close to Gustav too and Bill needed a few more moments to prepare himself for that.
Gustav was wearing a new blue-and-white checkered shirt with a prim little collar, probably a Christmas present from his mother. He was blinking rapidly behind his glasses, a sure sign that he was as off-balance as Bill felt, but altogether he looked entirely too cute and cuddly. Bill shuffled his feet on the edge of the rug, watching Tom bestow his affections on their drummer.
“I’m seeing you in a whole new light,” Tom declared, smiling, and an alarmed expression came over Gustav’s face.
“What does he mean?” he asked Bill warily.
“I have no idea,” Bill lied.
“We’re supposed to rehearse for the tour,” Gustav told Tom with the stern air of a cranky schoolmarm. “Whatever prank you’re planning, forget it now.”
“We’re not planning any pranks,” Bill said quickly. He nudged Tom aside and, before he could think about it too much, hugged Gustav too. “Hi, Juschtel. Happy new year.”
“Hey,” Gustav greeted, softening. He patted Bill’s shoulder gently. “Feeling better?”
“Lots.” Bill pulled back, smiling, and found that his brother had disappeared with the stealth of Jost lurking at awards shows. Georg’s voice came from the hall, cheerfully relating some new sex joke, and then he and Tom broke into wicked laughter. Bill jerked his head towards the door. “All’s back to normal.” Well, that wasn’t quite true, he thought as he looked into Gustav’s gruff, beloved face; but at least Tom was back, Tom knew, Tom was willing to help, and with Tom by his side, Bill could do anything. He inhaled deeply, smelling Gustav’s cologne and the sharp, lingering smoke of cigarettes and the adhesive on the tape that Gustav used to protect his fingers when he played drums. It smelled like coming home. Everything was as it should be.
“Good. I was worried about you,” Gustav said shortly. His eyes wandered up Bill’s face towards the black beanie he was wearing. “So let’s see the hair.”
Bill made a face, but tugged the beanie off. He still wasn’t quite used to the short cut he’d given himself. Without a hat, he felt cold, almost like he was naked. He shivered. “There.”
Gustav looked at him thoroughly from all sides, walking in a circle around Bill as if he was an art exhibit. “Well. It shows off more of your head and your, uh, face.”
“Is that good or bad?” Bill smiled.
“Always fishing for compliments, aren’t you,” Gustav said, amused. “You can pull it off if you want to. Aren’t you going to do anything about it?”
“Nah. Just grow it out again, I suppose,” Bill said. “I don’t feel like putting any fake shit on my head right now.”
“Good. I like your real hair,” Gustav said. He folded his arms across his chest and pulled up his shoulders. “I mean, I think it looks better.”
“Do you,” Bill smiled. Suddenly, he was feeling much less out of his depth. He was a Kaulitz. He could switch on the charm if he wanted to - he’d watched Tom do it a million times. “Well. I’m glad your dye job grew out, I always thought your natural color looked best.”
“Um. Thanks.” Gustav had perfected the art of the poker face, but he sounded a little flustered, Bill thought.
He grinned wickedly. “The brown looked so severe. You’re cute as a blond.”
Silence fell. Gustav seemed at a loss for words. Smiling to himself, Bill busied himself with the zipper on his coat. He could be patient when he needed to be.
Eventually, Gustav cleared his throat. “Why are we talking about hair?”
“You started it,” Bill laughed. He flung the coat over the back of the chair he usually occupied in the small circle that had been set up for their rehearsal session. He kept his back to Gustav, giving the drummer a moment to himself. He knew how Gustav hated it when there were eyes on him constantly.
“Right.” Gustav sounded embarrassed. “We should get started. Where are the others?”
Bill listened for noises in the hall, but the house was quiet. It was just the four of them today; maybe Tom and Georg had gone out for a smoke, or to fuss over one of their cars again. Sending a mental thank you towards Tom, Bill flopped down on the couch and stretched out his long legs. “I’ll go get them in a minute. Hey, come here. I wanted to talk to you.”
Gustav cautiously drew nearer, as if he wasn’t quite sure it was a good idea to get too close to Bill. He sat down at the other end of the couch. “What?” he asked brusquely.
Bill smiled. When Gustav began to resemble a snapping turtle, that was usually a sign that whatever was happening was getting to him. “I wanted to thank you,” Bill said gently. “Y’know, for being there for me when Tom was gone.”
“Of course!” Gustav said, surprised. “I wish I could’ve done more. Something that would’ve actually helped.”
“You did help me. Knowing you were there…it felt good.”
Gustav nodded. “I’m glad.” He studied his feet. There was a long pause. “You seemed so sad.”
“I was very sad,” Bill agreed quietly.
Gustav raised his head to pin him with a look that seemed to penetrate the depths of Bill’s soul and made his heart jump as if with an electric shock. “But you’re okay now, right?”
“I’m okay,” Bill assured him. He shivered, and suddenly felt really silly. He hugged his arms around himself and crossed his legs. “How are you doing?”
Gustav actually looked befuddled, as if he rarely spared a thought for his own self. “Me? Um. I’m fine. You know, the usual. Had a nice quiet Christmas with the family, met a few friends, hung out with my sister. Nothing special. I was looking forward to coming back here. Playing drums, joking around with Georg, smacking down Tom…”
“And me?” Bill inquired, grinning. “What’s our usual operating method?”
“That depends,” Gustav said wisely.
“On what?”
“Oh, many things. Your mood, Tom’s mood, the weather, if it’s a good hair day or not…”
“And again with the hair,” Bill grinned.
“Don’t tell me hair isn’t important,” Gustav teased.
Bill was glad for the familiar, lighthearted tone. Maybe going for an intense conversation was a little much when the hurts of Tom’s disappearance and the stress of that morning’s fight had barely faded. “It is,” he laughed. He ran his hand through his short, spiky black hair. After his nightly haircut, all Natalie had been able to do was even out the length at the top to match that at the sides and tell him to be patient or wear a wig. Come to think of it, Bill actually quite liked it. His head felt lighter.
“When I talked to Tom that morning and he said you’d cut your hair, I was so close to getting in my car and driving up here,” Gustav admitted, sobering again in an instant.
Bill gave him a startled look. “Without a license? And on Christmas Eve? Your family would’ve been so disappointed.”
Gustav shrugged. “You…you guys are family too. I would’ve come if you’d asked.”
Bill suddenly felt a rush of affection that made it impossible to not reach out and hug Gustav close. His pulse sped up with the feel of the other man in his arms, Gustav’s breath warm on his neck and his strong back rippling under Bill’s hands, but first and foremost, before anything else, they were friends; friends who’d been at the top of the world together, and down at its lowest low. Bill vowed never to forget that. “I know,” he murmured into Gustav’s shoulder. “I would’ve come for you too.”
They held on to each other for a few long moments. “Right.” Gustav cleared his throat. “Come on, let’s go get them. Heaven help us, I bet they’ve forgotten all their chords.”
Bill let him go, but his hand lingered between Gustav’s shoulder blades, stroked down along his spine, smoothing out a wrinkle in Gustav’s shirt. He smiled. “As long as you still know your beats, I think we’ll be fine.”
Gustav actually blushed, and Bill mentally marked one point on the Gustav score chart. His smile turned saucy. He could do this. He was ready - hell, if he thought about it, he’d been ready for years. He was most definitely willing, and totally on top of all things Gustav. He could do this. He--
Gustav caught his arm. His broad, callused palm wrapped around Bill’s wrist and squeezed, fingers tightening around his arm in a perfect circle. He peered up at Bill through pale lashes; their eyes met, and Gustav smiled his rare, shy smile. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ve got you covered,” and Bill knew he was lost.
He floated down the hall in Gustav’s wake, his head spinning, the rhythmic squeaking of Gustav’s sneakers on the PVC floor the only thing anchoring him to the here and now. Outside, in the cold winter air of the yard, he felt like his feet were barely touching the gravelly ground; like his chest was filled with helium gas and he could rise into the sky like a balloon, suddenly light with giddiness.
Tom was sitting on the hood of his car, having a smoke with Georg. He took one look at Bill and made a grab for him, settling Bill firmly against his side. He shoved the cigarette between his fingers and Bill took a long, grateful drag. Tom’s arm came around him; his hand curled around Bill’s elbow, squeezing gently, It’s okay, calm down. His warmth at Bill’s side was soothing. Bill knew he had to keep it together if he wanted to function for their rehearsal session, and besides, he couldn’t just jump Gustav suddenly, after all these years, without any sort of preparation.
No matter how much he might have liked to.
“Hey, Georg,” he sighed on a long exhalation of smoke. “Happy new year.”
“You look overwhelmed already,” Georg grinned. “Did Gustav tell you about his rehearsal timetable?”
“You want to play a good tour, don’t you,” Gustav said. “You know you’ll never be on time if I don’t hold you to a strict schedule.”
“Excuse me for having a life,” Georg laughed. “Don’t be jealous, it’s your own fault you’re all single.”
“No it’s not,” Gustav muttered.
Georg whistled. “Oh, what’s that? Got your eye on someone, Juschtel?”
Gustav sighed his long-suffering sigh. “Can we start? If you’re not ready, I’ll go ride my bike for a while.”
“In this weather?” Bill shivered just thinking of a bike ride through winter wind and frozen streets. “You’ll just fall and break something.”
“And you’ll catch cold out here without a jacket, and then you won’t be able to sing,” Gustav retorted. “Inside now, all of you!”
“All right, mom!” Georg rubbed his hands. “It is cold. Are you coming?”
“We’ll just finish the cigarette,” Tom said, and Georg and Gustav went ahead into the house, having long been used to the twins needing moments to themselves.
Alone together, Tom stole the cigarette back from Bill. “So?”
“So? Nothing yet!” Bill said indignantly. “Give me a few hours to adjust, okay? And him.” Especially Gustav; Bill himself was quick to adapt to an idea when he had decided he liked it. And he liked this one, quite a lot.
“You looked totally lovestruck when you came out,” Tom smirked. “Like those cartoon characters with little pink hearts in their eyes?”
“Shut up.” Bill grabbed at the cigarette and almost burned his fingers.
“What happened? What did you talk about?” Tom was insistent; after that morning’s discovery, Bill couldn’t even blame him, although he was at a loss as to what to tell Tom.
“Nothing, really. We joked around a bit, about my hair and his hair… I told him thank you for taking care of me while you were gone.” He nudged Tom’s shoulder with his own when Tom frowned at that; the guilt was still weighing him down, Bill knew. “And then we hugged.”
“Aha!” Tom said.
“He seemed a little flustered,” Bill allowed. “And he’s nice to me, but there isn’t really anything that’s more than friendly. Nothing that couldn’t be explained away.” He faltered. Maybe they’d gotten it wrong after all; or, even if they hadn’t, maybe Gustav simply didn’t want to act on these feelings between them just like Bill hadn’t dared to.
Until now.
Bill sighed. There was no going back now, not with the way he felt. Snuffing the small, burning flame of hope would kill something inside, that warm, affectionate feeling for Gustav that he now realized he’d carried with him for a long time. Oh, their professional relationship would remain unchanged, the band would be safe, but Bill didn’t think he could ever look at Gustav the same way now, even if he wanted to. And he didn’t. He didn’t.
“But it’s too late,” he whispered. “It’s already too late. I can’t not try.”
“Good,” was Tom’s estimation. “You suck at not trying. You’d explode.”
“Maybe,” Bill allowed, chuckling. Tom’s confidence was heartening. “But maybe we should rehearse some first, or Gustav will explode. We’re probably already behind on his timetable.”
“Right.” Tom actually looked intrigued at that. Charts appealed to his OCD tendencies; if Gustav had been smart enough to color-code their timetable, Tom was bound to jump at it, and then rehearsals would really get intense.
Bill smiled at the thought. “Come on, let’s take a look.”