Fic: Through the looking glass (13/15), TH gen, rated PG13

[peki]

Title: Through the looking glass (13/15)
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?


Band practice went smoothly with Tom settling back into the old routine of songs easily enough. He found he quite enjoyed playing them again; they had a simplicity to them that had gotten lost somewhere along the way. However, as he played, he was acutely aware of the wide gap that had opened up between him and the other three with five years of practice and experience on stage. It made him proud for what they’d learned, how much they’d taught each other in their time together, but it also made him yearn for his friends in the future. Jamming with Georg, getting lectured by Gustav on rhythm and tempi - he missed it.

The younger Gustav and Georg, for their part, were cautiously enthusiastic about everything he told them, but they kept a bit of a respectful distance as the four of them walked down the muddy country road to the lake after their session, Bill hurrying to keep up with Tom’s long strides and talking a mile a minute about their album. The rain had let up for the moment; weak rays of sun were tentatively peeking out between the clouds.

“I think the album’s turned out great. What do you think? Do you still like it? What do our songs sound like where you’re from? Do you still listen to hip hop all the time or have you finally developed better taste in music?”

Tom smirked at his little brother’s excited babble. “Where I’m from, you like German rappers.”

“Pfft.” Bill turned his nose up at that and Tom had to laugh. Bill had no idea what the future had in store for him. And that was how it should be.

“You’ll see,” he said indulgently. “And yes, I still like our first album. I think we’ve gotten better over time, but it’s still a pretty good first record.”

“You’ve certainly gotten better,” Gustav said, and Tom didn’t know if he should take that as a compliment or be insulted on younger Tom’s behalf. “You can even play Rette mich now without messing up more than three or four chords.”

Tom turned his head. “Hey. It’s a difficult song, and besides, I hadn’t played it in ages.”

“Sure,” Gustav smirked.

Tom flipped him off. Gustav was a good drummer, always had been, so he had the leverage to talk shit about the others, which he liked to do at length. And he would become better yet. Tom grinned fondly. “Whatever. We all know it’s the guitarists who get all the girls, wrong chords or not.”

“Uh-hu,” Gustav made incredulously, and Tom actually stopped to wait for the drummer to bump into him so he could grab Gustav in a headlock.

Laughing, Georg shoved at Tom’s shoulder. “It’s not Gustav’s fault all your girlfriends break up with you before you even get to cop a feel.”

Flushing, Tom let Gustav go only to make a grab for Georg, who ran off, cackling madly and tossing his head like a conceited pony. A few years from this moment, that hair flip would make a lot of girls swoon, Tom thought wryly, but he wasn’t about to tell Georg that.

“At least I’ve never been with some hag,” Tom hollered after him. “You will be!” He made a mental apology to Georg’s girlfriend of the future, who was charming and pretty and definitely not a hag. Keeping Georg on his toes could only be good for their future relationship, though; Tom laughed when the bassist’s face fell.

“You’re lying,” Georg said uncertainly. “Right? Bill?”

“I think so,” Bill said soothingly. He patted Georg’s shoulder. “You know his girl talk can’t be trusted, he’s been disappointed too often, it’s his coping mechanism.”

“Haha,” Tom made. He kicked at Bill’s knees from behind as he walked. “Seeing as I’m the only one in this group right now who’s getting laid on a regular basis, you all can shut up now.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Bill said cheerfully, but he redirected the conversation to Tom’s relief. “Our single. Will it do well?”

“Yes,” Tom assured him. “It’ll do well. The album too. Don’t worry.”

Bill was bouncing along now more than he was walking; his young face was lit up with glee. “How well?”

“Not telling,” Tom smiled.

“Seriously, Bill, there need to be some surprises,” Gustav said. “You don’t want our life to become boring, do you.”

Bill turned sparkling eyes on his friend. “Our life is never going to get boring, not as long as we play together!”

“That’s true,” Georg grinned.

Gustav sighed, but he couldn’t hide a small smile. “Sometimes I wish for a little boredom,” he said wryly.

“Aw, Juschtel!” Bill fell back to skip along next to Gustav, nudging him repeatedly in the arm. “You love this, just admit it!”

Gustav watched Bill bounce for a few moments, eyes following Bill’s ups and downs. He smiled and quickly ducked his head. “Whatever. Why are we going to the lake? It’s just going to rain again, you’ll see.” He wasn’t wrong; the summer air hung damp and heavy above the wet ground, thick, fragrant steam uncurling from the grass at the side of the road. Above them, thick grey clouds were gathering. The atmosphere seemed charged. It was the perfect weather for a thunderstorm, but for now it was dry, and they had almost reached their destination.

The lake was little more than a puddle of clear, warm water at the dead end of the dirt road that started behind the Kaulitz house. Not many people came here, most of the population frequented the public pools, and that was how they liked it. The quartet broke through a thin line of trees, and then they stood at the edge of the lake which would, just a few weeks later, become a place of worship and pilgrimage, all because of a music video that would be shot there.

Tom smiled. That little tidbit, he’d keep to himself. The boys would come up with the idea on their own. Breathing deeply, he relished the quiet and solitude. There were no other people, no bodyguards, no reporters hiding in the bushes trying to catch them in their swim shorts. They were all alone. With a joyful whoop, he quickly kicked off his shoes, dropped his hat, shed his shirt and pants under which he was already wearing his shorts, and waded into the lake. The water lapped at his knees, nice and refreshing. He turned back to the others and found them staring at him.

“What?” He squinted at them through the sunlight that reflected off the gleaming surface of the water.

Gustav was tugging self-consciously at the front of his t-shirt, stretching it above his belly. Georg stood frozen with one leg in, one out of his pants, his face envious.

“Wow. You have muscles,” he said.

“Yeah. He smacked around one of the tenth graders.” Bill’s voice was proud.

“How long did you work on those abs?” Gustav asked.

“Ages.” Tom slapped his hard stomach, grinning. “Totally worth it though, don’t you think?”

Georg nodded, impressed.

Bill rolled his eyes. “Exercise? Ew.” He dropped his clothes where he stood, revealing his stick-insect body. “I’d rather hang around and eat gummi bears.”

Tom didn’t tell him that that was exactly what Bill would be doing a few years from now, as he sat on Tom’s feet while Tom did hundreds of stomach crunches. His brother’s laziness didn’t need encouragement. “And that’s why I’ll always be the prettier twin,” Tom grinned, and got splashed with water in response.

“Just you wait, you coward!” Bill hollered at him as Tom evaded the next splash, laughing. “Guys, come on, let’s get him!”

With a laugh and a big splash, Georg tumbled off the bank. Gustav dithered for a moment, then jumped in with them, still wearing his t-shirt. They came at Tom from three different sides, and Tom went under with a laugh, swallowing lake water and kicking his feet to stir up the bottom of the lake around them. Water sloshed down his shoulders and trickled out of his braids as he came up again, and he punched the surface of the water to hit the three others in the face. Bill shrieked with giggles, his silly hair plastered to his face and his make-up running, uncaring what a mess he was becoming and fast. Too late, Tom felt someone coming at him from behind, and then Georg jumped on his back and they both went under again.

“Whee!” came the battle cry at a pitch only Bill and very exuberant hyenas were capable of. There was a wet smack as of bodies colliding, and then Tom felt them all pile on top of him like a litter of overexcited puppies. Laughing, he ducked under the surface of the water to evade the six slippery hands and let Gustav and Bill pummel Georg for a while, until their bassist coughed up half the lake and admitted his defeat.

At first, Tom didn’t realize that heavy droplets were beginning to fall. Only when they splashed his nose did he look up: the clouds had gathered and closed in around them like a heavy dark curtain. The wind had picked up again, whipping Tom’s wet braids around his shoulders. In the distance, white slivers of light raced across the sky.

“Crap. There’s a thunderstorm coming.” Breathlessly, Gustav motioned to the others. “Let’s get out of the water, guys.”

They pulled on their clothes hurriedly over damp skin. Tom’s shirt clung uncomfortably to his back; his shoes squished wetly, chafing at his ankles. The wind blew harshly, and in spite of the warmth that had earlier pressed down on them like a heavy weight, they were now all shivering. Goosebumps rose all over Tom’s arms. He grabbed Bill’s wrist and found him shaking with the sudden drop in temperature.

“Come on!”

Out of the woods and on the open road, the rain was gushing down now, coming at them from the front. The wind whipped their hair around their faces, tore at their clothes. Above, the sky rumbled and quivered with flashes of lightning. The road was turning into a mudslide, sticky like a swamp. They ran against the storm, clothes heavy with water, gasping for breath in the wet air. Much as he’d enjoyed splashing through the lake, Tom had never hated nature so much as he did right now.

He turned his face towards the clouds above, into the raindrops that were pelting his face. A bolt of lightning flickered across the black sky, bright and blinding like a strobe light. Tom blinked against the wetness in his eyes. A roll of thunder, like drums, or frenetic applause.

A voice reached his ears, scraps of a song that the wind carried away. Bill was running ahead, his arms spread out as if he wanted to fly, singing at the top of his lungs. It was the song that would make them, shape the course of their future, the path of their life.

”Ich muss durch den Monsun, hinter die Welt, ans Ende der Zeit, bis kein Regen mehr fällt. Gegen den Sturm, am Abgrund entlang, und wenn ich nicht mehr kann, denk ich daran…“

Together we’ll be running somewhere new, Tom thought wildly, watching his twin dance on the current of the storm, his dark hair flying around his face, head tilted back in rapturous joy.

Through the monsoon.

Tom spread out his arms towards the heavens as if in desperate prayer. The wind carried away the words he murmured under his breath, lyrics of an old song and a new; a bright burst of light exploded before his eyes. Tom stumbled and fell, the ground rushing towards him fast; I want to go home was the only thought on his mind, and then he hit his head hard and there was darkness.