Fic: The Ways of the World, (4/?), Tom/OFC

[peki]

Title: The Ways of the World (4/?)
Pairings/Genre: Tom/OFC, Bill/OMC, Georg/OFC, lots of gen on the side
Rating: NC17
Summary: Much has changed for the better in Tom's life since he fell in love, but the world keeps spinning and the show must go on. Sequel to The Best Laid Plans.


“Are we going to work or are you going to stare off into space all day?”

With a start, Bill came out of the daydream that had been playing before his mind’s eye while he pretended to work on his lyrics. “Huh?”

“Are you ready for a test run?” Tom asked impatiently. He pushed a few buttons on the studio’s control board, and the lights went on in the sound booth where Bill always recorded vocals.

“In a minute!” Bill crossed out a few words in his notebook and added a new half-sentence. “What’s the rush, it’s not like anyone is waiting for us! Even David is on Christmas vacation.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to get your shit together for half an hour,” Tom huffed. “You said there were only three lines missing!”

“Yeah.” Bill read through the lyrics he’d written once more, then crossed everything out with a big sigh. He fell back in his chair, ruffling his own greasy hair. They’d gone down into the studio right after they had woken up, still clad in their nightwear, which, for Bill, consisted of clingy shorts and a t-shirt. He’d put on cowboy boots and a bathrobe he’d stolen from the Ritz to ward off the cold which had forced Tom into the blue flannel pyjamas his mom had bought him two Christmases ago. It was early afternoon, they had time off for leisurely work, everything could’ve been cozy and nice, but Bill just wasn’t having it. “I’m sorry, I can’t concentrate today.”

“Is it because of Robert?” Tom guessed. Bill had returned from his shopping trip a few days ago with bags full of presents for everyone they knew, a smug smile, and shining eyes that glowed with an inner fire. Tom knew his brother had talked to the guy on the phone several times over the past couple of days, but Bill had been reticent about the whole thing between him and Robert, as if he was unsure whether it was a good idea to tell Tom about it. Since Robert seemed to occupy most of his thoughts, though, he didn’t really talk about anything else either, and Bill’s unusual, dreamy silences were wearing on Tom’s nerves. Who would’ve thought that peace and quiet could be so unnerving.

The corners of Bill’s mouth twitched at the mention of Robert’s name, an unconscious reflex that had quickly become ingrained in the catalogue of his habitual little gestures and expressions. “It’s him,” he admitted, glancing at Tom and then quickly back at his notes. “But it’s not just him. There’s so much going on right now with the new album, our label, and we still need a publicist… And I’ve been thinking of Georg a lot.” He paused, pensive. “What do you think next year will be like?”

“I don’t know,” Tom said honestly. It was difficult to predict anything in the business they were in. The only thing that was certain and always had been was that they would be okay as long as they were together; but it wasn’t just the two of them anymore now. People had come into their life, people they cared about, and it made things more complicated. “What do you think?”

Bill glanced at him again, hesitating. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I hope things will be all right with Georg’s kid and that Gustav won’t snap and murder some interviewer someday, and I really hope you won’t fuck things up with your girlfriend.”

“Does it look like I will?” Tom asked testily. “Mind your own love life.”

The tips of Bill’s ears turned red. “I’m trying, just… This is all new.”

“Oh, come on. You’re not a blushing virgin.” Some of the fans might think so, but Bill was by far not as innocent as he looked, even though he really hadn’t had a steady relationship in years.

“I’m not talking about sex.” Bill slapped him half-heartedly. “But I’ve never felt like this about anybody.”

Tom breathed deeply, trying to force down the apprehension that came over him with Bill’s confession. Robert was special; Tom had known this right away, watching the first spark in his twin’s eyes as he shook Robert’s hand for the first time, but hearing Bill acknowledge it was different. They had become cautious over the years, careful with the disappointments of people selling them out, or the tentative stirrings of affection fading and fizzling away when they had to pack up and leave yet another town, another person they had liked, behind.

There had to be actual feelings between him and Robert for Bill to be willing to place his bets and admit to the beginning of something. More than physical attraction; that was never what drove Bill, anyway.

Tom could only hope Robert felt the same.

He realized he was frowning at Bill and quickly tried to smooth his expression into a more neutral look of casual interest. “So?”

Bill started, coming out of his own thoughts. “So what?”

“So what do you feel?” Tom prompted.

His twin looked at him for a long moment, sizing Tom up almost warily. “Do you really want to hear about it?”

Tom thought that should be obvious; when had they not shared everything? “Don’t you want to tell me?”

Bill shrugged. “Yeah, I do, but only if you want to hear about it.”

“I just said I did!” Tom exclaimed.

“I know, but you’ve been…” Bill trailed off when he saw Tom’s dark look.

“I’ve been what?”

Bill fluttered his hands vaguely. “You’ve been…grumpy whenever it came up.”

He’d been called grumpy so many times over the past few days, Tom was beginning to actually feel it. “I haven’t been grumpy.”

Bill pointed an accusing finger at his forehead. “You’re doing it right now.”

“What?”

“Making your grumpy face.” Bill hit the button on the control board and the lights in the recording booth went out. In the glass pane that separated the booth from the control room they were sitting in, Tom could see his reflection frowning back at him.

He tried to let go of the tension that kept his brow furrowed and his eyebrows drawn together. It was difficult; he hadn’t realized he’d gotten used to the pinched look. He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. Will you please tell me what’s going on with you?”

“You really want to know?” Bill asked again.

Tom didn’t know what sort of vibe he must’ve given off for his twin to be so hesitant to come out and say what was on his mind. Bill wasn’t a secretive sort, he didn’t even like to think quietly inside his head, he preferred talking to Tom. “Of course I do,” Tom said, wounded. “You never even told me what happened on your shopping trip.”

“I didn’t,” Bill admitted sheepishly, then, with an indignant frown, “but you didn’t ask!”

“Well I’m asking now!”

“Okay then!” There was a moment’s awkward silence in which they glared at each other until Bill looked down at his hands, inspecting his manicure. “It’s not like anything big happened,” he said quietly, after some consideration, chancing an apologetic look at Tom.

“I don’t care.” Tom tried to match his brother’s soft tone and calm down. They could fight over the small things, the unimportant stuff like who drank the last can of Red Bull or who got to pick a DVD to watch, but there were moments when their shared life was so much bigger than the sum of its parts, and for those, they had to stand together. They always did; Tom didn’t want that to change.

He smiled lopsidedly, thumping Bill’s arm with his fist. “I’m not Bild, I’m not in this for the gossip. I only care about you.”

“And I care about Robert.” Bill’s tone was quiet and carefully even, and Tom knew his twin only bothered to be serious like this when he really meant it. “Do you think you could bring yourself to care about him, too? Just a little bit? So I don’t have to feel embarrassed and uncomfortable about it?”

Tom blinked. He hadn’t known Bill felt that way. How hadn’t he known? Had he really been so caught up in his own feelings, his own issues, that he’d lost sight of his twin? “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” Even the thought stung.

“But I do if I know you disapprove of him.” Bill tilted his head and smiled, patting Tom’s arm when Tom ducked his head, embarrassment washing over him now. “Please, Tom?”

Tom’s cheeks burned. “I didn’t mean to… Damn it, Bill, you have to know that!”

“I do,” Bill said. “I know you can’t help your inflexible grandpa ways, but you could at least try!”

“I will.” Tom looked up and found his twin’s face level with his, Bill leaning over him, always seeking physical closeness when the going got rough. Bill’s hands were on his shoulders, thumbs stroking gently back and forth, and Tom closed the remaining distance between them and hugged his brother to him. “I am trying, but I, I hardly even know the guy!”

“I know. I’m only getting to know him, myself,” Bill nodded. He drew back and gave Tom a beseeching look from wide, eager eyes. “But I really like what I’ve seen so far.”

“So tell me about that!” Tom swiveled around in his chair restlessly, flipping the switches and pushing buttons on the control board at random. The lights went on in the sound booth, and out again. “What’s there to know about him?”

Bill didn’t hesitate. “Well. He lives with his grandma--”

“Cool,” Tom snorted.

His brother gave him a reproachful look. “She’s elderly, he takes care of her. I think it’s sweet.”

Tom grudgingly had to admit that it was. It was good to know that Robert was a family man. “What about his parents?”

“His mother died when he was twelve. Cancer, I think. I didn’t want to pry. His father’s a diplomat. Works a lot, constantly moves from one country to the next. Robert used to live in France with his parents, but when his mom died, his dad sent him to live with his grandparents in Hamburg, for stability or something. I don’t know. It sounded like he just doesn’t have a good relationship with his father.”

Tom chewed on his lip. He couldn’t be mean to someone who’d lost his mom, his home, someone who could relate to the twins’ father issues, dedicated his spare time to taking care of elderly relatives and still maintained a kind smile. Robert really was a nice guy. It should’ve come as no surprise, because Erika wouldn’t have liked him as much if he wasn’t, but Tom still felt a sense of relief. “He hasn’t had it easy,” he concluded.

“No,” Bill said, smiling softly. “Makes me want to take care of him, now that I have him.”

“Oh, so you have him?” Tom stopped fiddling with the buttons on the sound control board to focus his full attention on Bill.

“I don’t know. I think I might, yeah.”

It was unlike Bill to be so neutral, so carefully noncommittal. For the first time, it occurred to Tom what all those sudden, unexpected feelings must do to his sensitive twin. Tom knew how overwhelmed he’d felt when dreams of Erika had begun to plague him at night; when he hadn’t been able to go an hour without thinking of her, sick to his stomach with nerves. But Bill was so much stronger than he, so much more at ease with his own feelings. Tom had always thought that Bill wouldn’t fall in love, he’d jump right in, headfirst. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

Bill fidgeted, twirling a large silver skull pendant he wore on a chain around his neck. “We’re not twelve! I don’t pass people notes anymore, Will you be my boyfriend?. We haven’t even kissed yet.”

“But?” Tom prompted, an eyebrow arching high on his forehead.

Bill wrung his hands. “But I think we might. Soon. We hugged when we said goodbye.” He sighed fondly. “He smelled nice. Sort of…woodsy. I could’ve spent hours smelling him.”

“Uh-hu,” Tom made unenthusiastically. This sort of talk was quickly becoming too girly for him.

“I wanted to kiss him.” Bill glanced at Tom as if he wasn’t sure that was an okay thing to feel. “Do you think it’d be too soon if I did? Next time?”

“Are you really asking me?” Tom said dryly.

“Right,” Bill smiled. “I remember, you kissed Erika on the first date.”

“I didn’t, she kissed me,” Tom corrected. “And you could wait for him to kiss you, but he seems very…” He looked into his brother’s shining eyes and couldn’t bring himself to say anything snide. “…gentlemanly. He’s probably waiting for you to go ahead.”

“Maybe.” Bill seemed heartened by Tom’s willingness to discuss things. “I don’t know, I guess I’ll just go with the flow.”

Now that sounded more like Bill. “So what did you get up to?” Tom asked.

“We shopped. I don’t think he enjoys it as much as I do, but he was really nice about it.” Bill snickered softly to himself. “And we talked about art a lot.”

Tom sort of wished he’d been there for that conversation. “What do you know about art?”

“Well, he talked. I’m a good listener,” Bill claimed to Tom’s infinite amusement.

He laughed. “You’re not a good listener!”

Bill smacked his brother sloppily, without any real annoyance. “I can be a good listener. If there’s something worth listening to.”

It would’ve meant doing Bill an injustice to deny that. Tom watched him for a long moment, his little brother who was always so bright and exuberant and alive, like a flame that drew everyone and everything around it. Tom carried a spark of it inside him always, and it warmed him, lit his way, when he felt alone in the darkness of some despair. He claimed the role of big brother, but Bill had always been there for him in his own way, the fire to which Tom was the fuel. Neither of them could ever live without the other, and Tom felt this keenly now as they stood on the brink of something that might change their entire lives. He cleared his throat. “Are you going to listen to me if I tell you to be careful?”

Bill smiled back at him warmly. “I always listen when you tell me things.”

Tom snorted. “When have you ever?”

“Always,” Bill promised. He stopped fiddling with his necklace and laid his hands over Tom’s on the control board. “I can’t be just like you, I can’t do things the same way you would. But you’re a part of me. You’re always with me. I couldn’t be me if not for you.”

Tom looked down at their joined hands, the long, entwined fingers, their palms that fit together like puzzle pieces. They had modified and decorated their bodies with jewelry, tattoos, different hair, different clothes, but save for Bill’s manicure, their hands were still exactly the same. One person with four hands, he thought, and had to swallow hard around a lump in his throat. “All right! Can we stop now?”

Laughing, Bill punched his shoulder, then turned back to his notebook with an intent look on his face. “Okay. Where were we?”

But the door bell ringing interrupted them. Tom glanced at his twin. They weren’t expecting anyone, their friends knew to call before they came by, and the mail always got delivered to a postal box. Simultaneously, they raised and dropped their shoulders, shrugging.

“No idea,” Bill said.

They sneaked up to the kitchen, where a security monitor was installed that showed the footage from the cameras outside their gate. It hadn’t happened often, but on occasion, fans had climbed the wall that lined the property and knocked on the front door. This time, though, it wasn’t a gaggle of girls who stood giggling on their doormat. It was a lone man in a long black coat and a top hat.

“Oh my god!” Bill flailed, jewelry jingling. “I’m not… I can’t… Look at me!” With a squeal, he ran off, his bathrobe fluttering around his knobby knees. “Keep him company until I’m ready, okay?”

“You want me to let him in?” Tom asked, aghast. He looked down at himself in his flannel pyjamas. Hardly an outfit to receive guests in. “Bill!”

But his twin had already disappeared upstairs, where Tom heard him hectically opening and closing drawers before the bathroom door was slammed shut. Huffing, Tom grabbed one of his hoodies off the back of a chair and pulled it on, making his way to the front door. “Hello?” he said into the intercom that was connected with the doorbell outside the gate. “Robert? I’ll buzz you in.” He did, meeting the man on the doorstep ten seconds later.

Tiny, glittering flakes of snow were melting on the smooth black wool of Robert’s coat. He wiped his shiny boots on the doormat and stepped inside, Tom holding the door for him awkwardly. “Good, um, morning,” the man said, eyeing Tom’s attire. “I’m sorry, is this a bad time? I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, no, we were downstairs in our studio.” For the sake of his twin, Tom resisted the urge to say something about manners and dropping in on people unexpectedly. “Bill is just getting dressed.”

Robert smiled almost shyly. “I was hoping to see him, I was just in the neighborhood…” He trailed off, flushing. “No, I wasn’t, I made a detour. But I wanted to give him this.” He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat - red brocade today - and pulled out a long silver chain with a star pendant that Tom thought he’d seen before. “I fixed it for him, the clasp was broken.”

Tom moved to take it, but Robert had already stowed it away safely in his pocket, as if he needed an entry pass to see Bill. Maybe he thought he did. Tom recalled his twin’s uncertainty on the matter and had to smile. The man didn’t need a key to Bill’s heart - it was already open to him - but Tom liked that he wasn’t too sure of himself.

“D’you want to come in? I could make a cup of coffee.”

“Oh. Yes, that would be nice.” Robert took off his hat and coat and laid both over a chair in the hall before following Tom through to the living room. He looked around curiously at the gold records on the walls in the hall, the shelves of awards that gathered dust in the living room. He’d always seemed so poised and confident to Tom when he met him, but here at the twins’ home, he looked a little lost, overwhelmed by the glitz of their rockstar memorabilia.

“Impressive,” he noted, sliding his finger along the smooth, convex side of Bill’s Echo Award. “You’ve won a lot of things.”

“I mostly remember the afterparties,” Tom quipped, and Robert chuckled.

“How old were you when all this started?” He made an elegant, sweeping gesture at the awards shelf.

“Fifteen.” Some of the memories were a blur, so much had happened since then. “It was pretty crazy. Still is.”

“I can imagine,” Robert said. He paused, watching Tom shrewdly. “There were girls outside your gate just now.”

“Did they see you?” Tom didn’t like the idea. Bad things tended to happen when too much about the goings-on at their house became known.

“Well, yes.” Robert frowned, and Tom realized how he must’ve made that sound.

“Sorry, it’s not you, it’s just, we have to be careful about what they get to see. When I first got with Erika…” He realized he was being presumptuous and trailed off. Bill wasn’t even with the guy yet.

“I do realize the official line is that Bill is straight,” Robert said crisply. He folded his arms across his chest and, for the first time, Tom saw him looking less than composed. The man’s upper lip curled disdainfully. “Erika told me, don’t worry.”

“That’s not the point,” Tom tried. He was pretty sure Bill was sick of being in the closet anyway.

“Then what is the point?” The man’s voice was still even and polite, but his blue eyes were piercing and seemed to look straight into Tom’s soul. “Does it bother you that he’s gay?”

Tom had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making a vicious remark. Robert didn’t know him; he didn’t know them, he couldn’t know how ridiculous his idea was. “I knew before he did,” he forced out through a constricting throat, remembering that first guy from their class Bill had had a crush on, and how he’d gotten beaten up for it when rumors surfaced at school. Bill had learned to guard his heart carefully then, had learned to keep his feelings hidden, but now he was throwing caution to the wind for Robert, and Tom couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying.

Robert couldn’t know how much was at stake here. People were only waiting for more reasons to hate Bill, and Robert himself wouldn’t be safe either if they weren’t careful about what they revealed to the public, and when.

“There’s nothing about Bill that could ever bother me,” he said, low. “He’s…Bill.”

Robert nodded somberly, like he knew what Tom meant. Maybe he did. He was getting to know Bill in ways no one had for a long time. No relationship could ever come close to a twin connection, but reversely, Tom couldn’t be close to Bill the way Robert was. Tom didn’t need to be, he had Erika, who filled that place in his heart like no one else could have, but it was strange to think that Bill would be giving a piece of himself away to someone they barely knew yet. It required a lot of trust; more than Tom had to give.

“But you don’t know what you’re getting into.” It was hard, making someone who hadn’t been there all along understand their situation.

“Is that a threat?” Robert asked, and his smooth, pleasant voice rumbled low now like thunder before the storm.

“No, damn it, I’m on your side!” Tom burst out. He didn’t mean to shout, but the guy was getting under his skin.

Robert snorted. “Are you?”

Tom didn’t know how meaningless small talk had shifted so suddenly into something rough and unpleasant. He advanced on Robert, noticing, to his delight, that he was a few centimeters taller if he drew himself up to his full height and could glower down at the man. “Bill is my twin,” he stated. “I feel what he feels. I want what he wants. Most of all, I want him to be happy, and if being with you makes him happy, so be it, but I need to tell you what’ll happen if you piss off those girls out there and you need to listen, because they can be dangerous and if you get hurt, Bill will hurt and I will hurt too, and we don’t want that, do we.”

Robert blinked. His irritated frown eased. “Well,” he said after a moment, color rising high in his cheeks, “I’m sorry, I misunderstood you.”

“You did,” Tom said crisply. He stepped back, putting some distance between them. Now that he’d said what he wanted to, he felt a little silly for the rant. He turned brusquely on his heel and marched into the kitchen, where he busied himself making coffee. He could use a nice strong cup right now.

“That’s interesting,” Robert said from the door, and Tom turned his head to see that the man had followed him and was looking around the kitchen. “What you said about being twins and feeling the same, I mean.”

Tom nodded. “We’re one.” It wasn’t much of an explanation, but it was all anyone was ever going to get from him. No one who wasn’t a twin could ever understand what it was like.

“You’re one, but you’re not the same?” Robert tilted his head, considering. “I see.”

“You do?” he snorted.

“Well.” Suddenly, Robert was standing next to him, smiling warmly, his hand touching Tom’s shoulder in a silent offer of peace. “I try. And I hope to see much more of you, together. Bill talks about you a lot.”

Tom shifted uncomfortably from left foot to right, unsure how much he should give away. “He’s told me about you, too.”

“Oh yeah?” Robert smiled. “Only good things, I hope.”

It would be so easy to taunt the guy a little, but Bill liked him and surely wouldn’t appreciate Tom needling him. On the other hand, Tom teased the people he liked; it was sort of mandatory if someone new was going to break into their inner circle. “Hmm,” he made noncommittally and watched Robert’s face fall. Tom glowered at him for a few seconds until he couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer; the other man’s wary expression was priceless. “Only good things,” he promised, snickering.

“Ah.” Robert relaxed. He dropped his arms to hang by his sides. “Okay. Good.”

They stood in silence for half a minute as Tom made coffee, stealing glances at each other, sizing each other up. Then, there were footfalls in the hall - fucking finally! - and Bill came skipping in, now properly dressed in tight blue jeans and a black cashmere sweater that slipped off one shoulder and showed off his pale collarbones. He wore minimal jewelry and make-up, which Tom knew was a good sign; it meant Bill didn’t feel the need to put on the glamorous mask he wore for the sake of the public. He was bouncing a little with excitement, but his stance was relaxed, and there was no tension keeping his expression in check when he looked at Robert. He was at ease, which was all Tom needed to know to breathe easier, too.

“Hey,” Bill smiled. “This is a nice surprise!”

“I wanted to drop off your necklace.” Robert brought it out again for Bill to admire and fuss over.

Tom listened to his twin gush, relieved now that Bill was here and lightening the mood with his easy charm. This was something Tom had never quite been able to pull off; he was good with girls he found desirable, but he lacked the enthusiasm to meet anyone and everyone with the sort of cheer that came so readily to Bill. Add to that the fact that Tom could tell his baby brother was utterly smitten with Robert, and Bill appeared even more chipper than usual.

“Did you have plans?” Bill was asking when Tom zoned back in. He turned around, mugs of coffee in each hand, to watch the pair circle each other like coy kittens. “We could go out if you don’t mind my bodyguard tagging along.”

“I didn’t have plans,” Robert smiled. “I just wanted to see you.”

Bill’s long, dark eyelashes fluttered as he cast his eyes down in an uncharacteristic display of shyness. “I’m glad you came. I really wanted to see you, too.” The pair smiled at each other, and Tom cleared his throat.

“I’m going to see Erika,” he announced. His girlfriend wasn’t expecting him, he’d told her they would be working in the studio until the evening, but Tom was fairly sure she wouldn’t mind a visit, and he’d rather be making eyes at her than watch Bill and Robert make eyes at each other. “I can take the car, right?”

“We’re staying in?” Bill asked Robert, nodding at Tom when the other man agreed. “You can take the car.”

Tom put coffee cups down on the counter for the two and escaped to the bathroom, where he closed the door firmly on the sexual tension and all the other weird, confusing feelings that were hanging in the air, making the atmosphere in the house crackle. In a way, he was glad that he’d gotten to talk to Robert one on one, seen that the man had a backbone, but almost-fighting with his brother’s potential boyfriend was just awkward as fuck. They hardly knew each other, after all, and Tom hadn’t exactly given Robert a warm welcome at their home, or the common courtesy guests deserved.

One thing was for certain, though: Robert was definitely interested in Bill, and he was willing to fight for him, too. That was promising.

Smirking to himself, Tom climbed into the shower for a quick wash, then got dressed. It was a cold day; it hadn’t stopped snowing since the night. The wind scattered snowflakes on their windowsills and rattled the doors. Standing by the window in his bedroom, Tom could feel the cold clawing at the windowpane. He put on thick socks and a long-sleeved undershirt against the chill, jeans and a flannel shirt on top, followed by a thick, dark blue cable-knit sweater. He finished off the outfit with matching blue sneakers and a blue beanie, then trudged downstairs again, a little wary of what he’d find. In the hall, he dragged his feet over the floor so the soles of his sneakers squeaked, announcing his arrival to the other men.

Bill and Robert had relocated to the living room. Robert was sitting on the couch, holding his coffee mug in both hands, while Bill bounced around between him and the kitchen, fetching sugar and spoons and a half-empty jar of Erika’s Christmas cookies. He was chattering at lightning speed, switching between subjects at random in a way that only ever made sense to Tom.

“…and over there’s the tongue we won in Mexico, oh look, sugar cookies, Erika’s the best, isn’t she, has she ever told you the story of how she met Tom, we laugh about it now although, oh, I forgot the milk, hang on!” And off he skipped again to get more things from the kitchen.

Robert, Tom mused, looked a little confused, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was smiling as he followed Bill to the kitchen door and back with his eyes, like he was studying a very intriguing puzzle that he couldn’t wait to figure out.

“I’m off,” Tom said into the momentary silence.

The man started. He turned to Tom, smiling tentatively. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean to interrupt your work--”

“We weren’t getting anywhere,” Tom told him. “It’s fine.” He walked over to the connecting door and backed Bill, who was just returning with a creamer, back into the kitchen. Their eyes met; Bill’s were bright and shiny with excitement. He grinned at Tom, winking, and Tom nodded once, satisfied. They didn’t need to speak. Bill looked happy. For the moment, it was enough.

“Have fun,” was all Tom said.

Bill touched his arm briefly, squeezing him in silent gratitude. “Bring Erika over for dinner, okay? We can order pizza, my treat.”

“You know Erika will never let you order food if she can cook something better herself.” Tom was pretty sure his twin was counting on that. They had both become spoiled.

His spirits lifted by thoughts of his girlfriend, Tom said goodbye to Robert, and half an hour later, he was knocking on Erika’s door, happily sweeping her up in his arms when she answered it in her stained, smelly painting clothes. She wore her hair in a tight bun on top of her head so it wouldn’t annoy her while she worked, threadbare sweatpants, and an oversized white shirt that had previously belonged to her father over a thick wool sweater. There was a dark smudge on her cheek and several on her clothes. The rubber gloves on her hands told him she was working on her graffiti.

“Hey!” Erika greeted him between kisses. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Robert dropped by our house. I thought it’d be nice to give them some time alone,” he said.

“Robert dropped by? Aw, those two!” She beamed. “Come look, I’ve made progress!”

For once, the window in her bedroom was open to let out the paint fumes. The room was icy cold, but the painting on her wall now had a finished ornamental border, and the image itself was outlined in pencil on the wallpaper. Tom studied it from her bed, gauging proportions and examining the filigree design along the baseboard. It looked nice, delicate and girly compared to the bold lines of his graffiti on her other wall. He enjoyed the contrast.

“I like it,” he nodded when he noticed her looking at him with something like anxiety. “Well done, Sweet Buns.”

“Thanks.” She soaked up the compliment happily. “Do you want to do a bit? I bought another respirator so we can mess around with our spray cans together like idiots.”

He smiled at the idea. “Nah, this one is all yours.”

“Okay, then I’ll take a break.” She pulled the window shut, shivering. “I didn’t realize how cold it was while I worked. Do you want to go sit in the living room? We could watch a movie.”

“Watch a movie? Now that he’s here, he can help me,” the surly voice of Nele said from the door. She stalked inside without so much as a ‘hello’ and thrust a brown folder that was labeled ‘2009’ at Tom’s chest. “I was just going through your press archive. What is this?”

He opened the folder to a newspaper clipping from Bild. In the front page picture, Tom was getting cozy with a smiling blonde. He glanced at the picture and snorted. “Her name is Chantelle.” That time in his life felt lightyears away.

“I don’t care what her name is. Were these supposed to look like candids?” Nele snapped.

In spite of himself, Tom blushed under her scornful look. “Um, yeah?”

Nele took the folder back and whacked him over the head with it. “You are idiots. If you’re going to stage something, do it right! Did anyone believe this was a real date? Even for a second?”

“I don’t know!” Tom said, exasperated. “I don’t check the fan forums.”

“See? That’s your whole problem, right there. No one is in touch with reality at all.” The woman sniffed derisively. “That’s going to change. Today.”

“What’s going to change?” Erika asked the question Tom didn’t dare to.

“The band’s approach to PR.” Nele flipped the folder open for her to look at. “Did you know about this?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’ve met Chantelle, she’s a riot at parties,” Erika said mildly. She smiled at them both, sunny and warm like the light on a summer’s day. “Go easy on him, okay, sweetie? It’s not his fault the press are idiots.”

“It’s his fault if they report on stupid stuff,” Nele huffed. “That Viagra thing? Hello? And don’t even get me started on the disaster with that French girl!”

“Can we move on?” Tom asked testily. “All of that happened over two years ago.”

“I need to know these things! I need to be prepared for anything,” Nele said. “And besides, I need to know how you fucked up so I can see that it doesn’t happen again.”

“Fine.” They glared at each other for a few seconds until Tom cleared his throat and looked away. “So how can I help you?”

“I need information.” She pulled a pen and notepad from the back pocket of her jeans and flipped it open. “You can tell me what’s coming up that might need my attention.”

“Cup of tea, Nele?” Erika asked, brushing past them with a sigh. Tom knew she’d hoped that the business issues were done with for the remainder of the year. To be honest, so had he. “Tom, a soda?”

They both nodded. “So?” Nele asked then.

Tom shrugged. “Well, there’s the album. We need to start thinking about promotion.”

Nodding, she scribbled it down. “What else?”

He considered for a moment. “The website should probably get updated at some point.” Things like that had been neglected after they’d let their staff go, one by one.

“Why don’t you start writing your blog entries yourself?” Nele asked. “I looked at your page, it’s not like that’d take a lot of time, and it’d be more authentic.”

“How are the fans even going to know the difference?” he asked sarcastically.

She turned her nose up at him. “They will. You’ll see if you try it.”

“Fine.” Tom sighed.

She tapped her pen against her bottom lip, pensive. “What else is there? And I don’t just mean promo and stuff that we can schedule. What should I be prepared for? In the way of damage control?”

“Damage control? I don’t know.” After all, it wasn’t like he could anticipate things like vocal cord surgeries or accidents or fights with stalkers. “I suppose people will start asking about Georg’s baby eventually.” They’d been able to contain the news of Janina’s pregnancy for a relatively long time, but eventually, she’d been caught out with a baby bump. Bild had been after her since.

“And how much are we going to tell them?”

“Not much. You’ll have to ask Georg.”

“Maybe we should take a proactive approach with such things,” she mused.

“What does that mean?” Tom asked, but she waved him off.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll think about it. What else?”

There was something. Tom debated for a moment how much he should tell her. He knew she was loyal - she was Erika’s confidante, she’d walked in on him in the shower, she’d been backstage at their shows, she could’ve sold them out a long time ago if she’d wanted to - but there were some subjects he didn’t trust many people with. Too much was already known about their private lives, and ever since Tom and Georg had gone public with their girlfriends, the tabloids’ curiosity had only increased. He wanted to keep to himself what he could, but on the other hand, she was right; they had to be prepared for any eventuality, and if Bill kept seeing Robert, there were definitely scenarios they should consider.

He chanced a look at her and found her watching him patiently for once, observing the play of emotions across his face. “Bill is gay,” he told her, watching her expression for signs of surprise or shock or disgust. There were none, except for the usual crease between her brows, but that was as much a part of her face as her nose or her eyebrows.

“I have noticed,” she said, shrugging. “Can’t really miss the tension between him and Robert.”

Tom released a long breath. “If he gets a boyfriend,” he put emphasis on the ‘if’, “He might not want to keep it a secret any longer. Or it might get out. Either way, maybe you should give that a thought.”

“Oh. I see.” It took him a moment to read the look on her face. Her eyes brightened, and the ever-present wrinkle on her forehead smoothed. Nele actually looked pleased for once, like he’d given her a task worthy of her attention. She stuffed her notes in the pocket of her jeans and clapped her hands once. “Well. I think I’ll go do some market research!”

Her chirpy voice could cut glass. It was almost more frightening than her usual mocking drawl. “What do you mean?”

Her eyes glittered with dark amusement. “I’m going to delve into the depths of your fans’ souls.” And with that, she skipped off. It was the first time Tom had seen her so chipper.

He looked after her, bewildered. The woman was seriously strange, and not just a little creepy.

“What did you do?” Erika asked, returning with two glasses and a bottle of Coke. “She was whistling when she walked past me.”

“I,” Tom said, surprised, “I think she likes the job?”

His girlfriend laughed. “Well, that’s good. Here.” She held out her hand, and when Tom took it, she dropped something cold and metallic into his palm. “I just remembered. If I get to keep your key, it’s only fair you get one for this place.”

Tom weighed it in his hand, smiling. “And your hellhound agreed to give me free passage whenever I want it?”

“I asked Nele and she said it was okay. I told you she likes you.” Erika sat down next to him on the bed, her legs folded up underneath her, and made herself comfortable.

Together, they looked at her painting. “It does look good,” she thought aloud. “If I can keep the paint flow under control, maybe it’ll actually turn out decent.”

They talked different brands of spray paints for a while, material and technique and other things that would’ve made Bill yawn had Tom gone on and on about them to him, but which interested Erika greatly. It was the best thing about having a girlfriend, Tom thought, aside from the sex: between her and Bill, there was always someone around who was willing to listen to him. Both twins liked to hear themselves talk; it was one of their flaws, Tom knew, but she didn’t seem to mind so he didn’t have to feel guilty for it.

“Yeah, I enjoy it,” she concluded eventually. She had gotten up to study her half-finished painting from different angles and was gesturing expressively, cola spilling from the glass she still held in her hand. “It’s fun once you get the hang of it. Except for the smell. Can we sleep at your place tonight?”

“That was the plan.” Tom gave her a winning smile. “Bill said he was going to treat us to pizza.”

“We can make our own pizza,” she said instantly. “It’ll taste so much better than that cardboard stuff from the delivery service.”

“Hmm.” Pleased, he put his arms around her and peered up at her from his sitting position with an impish grin. “I was hoping you’d cook.”

“I know,” she smiled, patting his head. “You still have trouble just asking for what you want, don’t you?”

That was a little philosophical for Tom’s liking. He nudged his nose into her cleavage, which was right at his eye level, dragging his lips over the soft skin there. “I want you,” he smirked.

“To do what? Cook?”

“That too.”

She giggled. “I mean it, Tom. You want something from me, just ask. Chances are I’m not going to say no.”

His grin turned positively wicked. “Oh, I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

She flicked his nose with her fingertip. “Do you really want to traumatize poor Robert with our sex noises so soon?”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I wasn’t talking about sex.”

“No? Oh, sorry, that was an assumption.” She clasped a hand before her mouth in mock embarrassment. “But if you’re not up for it…”

He tickled her sides and she squealed, wiggling out of his embrace and retreating. Tom pushed off the bed and went after her, catching her easily around the waist. She dodged his kisses, laughing, until he pushed her up against a bare stretch of the wall, pinned her hands above her head and pressed his lips to hers, tongue thrusting into her mouth demandingly until she gasped with arousal instead of giggles.

“I’m up for it,” he murmured, kissing a line down her neck.

“I noticed.” She rubbed up against him suggestively, but when Tom let go of her hands and reached for her hips to draw her closer, she pushed him away. “But I have drawing class at six.”

He made a whining noise. This girl would drive him crazy one day. “Can’t you skip it?”

She wagged a disapproving finger in his face. “No. How’d you feel if I told you to skip a concert so we could have fun?”

“I’d be tempted,” he said truthfully, “But I couldn’t.”

“See?” Smiling, she pecked him on the lips, then detached herself from him. She went over to her wardrobe, shedding her painting clothes as she went, to find an outfit that was fit to wear to school. “Class ends at eight. Do you think you could pick me up? The tram takes forever in the evening.”

“Sure.”

An hour later, he dropped her off at her school with a promise to be back when class was out. Tom felt like a proper chauffeur. He fished through the crap in Bill’s glove compartment for a decent CD, finding one of his own that he must’ve stashed there for occasions such as this. He blasted the music at maximum volume on his way back home, taking a turn here and there that would prolong his drive. It was nice to be driving, and Bill surely wouldn’t mind getting a little extra time alone with his maybe-boyfriend.

Tom tried calling his twin’s cell phone repeatedly as he got closer to home, not wanting to drop in on the new couple without warning - no matter how amusing it might be - but Bill didn’t answer. It was strange; Bill had his phone on him at all times, and they always made sure to answer each other’s calls. The fourth time his call went to voicemail, Tom gave up and dropped his phone on the passenger seat, huffing.

A strange sensation was sneaking up on him, an unpleasant tingle along his spine up to the base of his neck, as if someone was poking him with needles. He let the car slow down as he drove down their street, a feeling of dread settling at the pit of his stomach. The gate swung open. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but somehow, the place didn’t look right. All the lights were on, making the house glow against the backdrop of the winter night like a space ship ready to take flight. Behind the front hall windows, there was movement, large shadows rushing back and forth in a weird dance, never remaining in one place for even a second. An eerie silence lay over the house when Tom got out of the car; suddenly, it was interrupted by a piercing cry.

Frowning, Tom jogged up the stairs to the door and fumbled with the key. Cursing, he kept missing the lock, but he needn’t have bothered. The door was flung open, and Robert all but ran past him, his long coat swishing behind him.

“Wait!” a frantic voice cried, barely recognizable as Bill’s. “Robert, wait!”

Tom peered around the doorframe and saw his twin stand in the hall, barefoot and disheveled. His hair was mussed and his clothes didn’t sit right. The shirt he was wearing was ripped at the neckline. He hugged his arms around himself, shivering violently in the cold that streamed in through the door, and Tom could see that he was crying black tears. They trickled down his cheeks in dirty, dark lines.

“Please don’t leave like this,” Bill pleaded. “I just--”

Robert whirled around, stirring up the snow on the ground, which went up into the air around him, a hazy grey cloud of ice. In his dark clothes, he blended into the winter night, shapeless and intangible, but his face was stark white and shone in the light from the hall. There were tears in his eyes too.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice cracking like glass in the freezing cold. “You’re distrustful and brash and I, I can’t… Not if it’s going to be like that.” He drew a shuddering breath. “I wish... But I can’t. I’m sorry.” He turned and hurried away into the night.

“Wait!” Bill screamed, the single word bouncing off the walls of the surrounding houses, disrupting the peaceful silence. In the barren trees, a few birds scattered. Across the street, the lights went on on the neighbors’ porch.

Quickly, Tom grabbed his brother around the waist and dragged him away from the door. He slammed it shut, the sound echoing loudly in the sudden quiet of the house. Bill’s harsh breaths came fast and erratically; under Tom’s hand, his heart beat like it wanted to burst out of his chest. Shuddering, Bill clutched at his arm and, with a great sob, finally began to cry in earnest.

“What happened?” Tom asked, utterly stunned by what he’d just witnessed. Just a few hours ago, everything had been okay. No, better than okay: great, even. He’d left the two men to a conversation over coffee, and returned to a fight that was… Tom didn’t know what, but as he held Bill close, his face tucked into the crook of Tom’s neck, he could feel what it had been. Heartbreaking. Pain rolled off Bill in waves that washed over Tom like acid, clawing at his skin, trickling inside through the cracks in his composure until his breaths were coming hectically like Bill’s, both of them on the edge of hyperventilating.

“Shh, shh,” Tom made helplessly over and over again, stroking a gentle hand down Bill’s back. “Tell me what happened?”

But there was no reply; only more sobs.