Fic: The Ways of the World, (5/?), Tom/OFC

[peki]

Title: The Ways of the World (5/?)
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.


Tom didn’t know how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity until Bill finally calmed down enough to stop crying. It was like a dam had been broken, and all of Bill’s frustrations, his disappointments, his heartaches were pouring out from deep within, triggered by this fight with the one person who was emblematic for everything Bill had ever wanted, but been denied.

It had to be that way, because Tom couldn’t believe he was only crying for Robert. Whatever had happened, Tom couldn’t possibly imagine that a world-ending catastrophe might have occurred in the few hours he’d been gone.

Unless…

Dark, violent ideas played before Tom’s inner eye like a sadistic slideshow, horrific scenarios of his brother getting used and abused. He shuddered, his eyes popping open to look into Bill’s pale, tear-streaked face. They were kneeling on the floor in the hall, and Bill was leaning into him, his head heavy on Tom’s shoulder. Tom tilted his chin two centimeters to the left and could feel Bill’s forehead pressed against his cheek. He felt feverish, ill with heartbreak and upset.

“Did he…did he do something to you?” Tom forced out past the trepidation that made his stomach swirl sickly. “Did he hurt you?”

“We hurt each other,” Bill whispered. “But I didn’t mean to, I didn’t!” His face crumpled, but no more tears would come now; they had dried up, leaving only dusty despair.

“What happened?” Tom asked again. He shook his brother gently. “Bill, please, if he touched you--”

Bill’s laugh was brittle. “He touched me alright.”

“And he hurt you?” Tom felt ill. “He, he…”

Bill sat up with a start, as if he was waking from a long nightmare. “What? No, no, he didn’t hurt me like that. Not physically.”

It should’ve been a relief, but Tom hardly felt better for the thought of Bill’s heart being broken instead. “Tell me,” he pleaded. “I need to know.”

“Why? So you can try to fix it? You can’t, Tom, not this time.” Bill curled in on himself on the tiled floor, hugging his knees. There were tired, weary crinkles around his eyes, deep and dark like spider veins with the residue of smeared mascara. His mouth made a thin, wobbly line.

Tom couldn’t stand to see him like this. “Well, whatever he did, he can go to hell!”

Bill winced. “No. Please don’t say that. He’s right. I waited for so long to let someone in, let the right one in, that I totally forgot how to be close to people.” He made a choking noise, reaching out his arms, and Tom grabbed him roughly around the waist again, holding him close as Bill began to dry-heave with sobs.

“You can be close to me,” Tom muttered gruffly into his twin’s hair.

Bill choked out a harsh laugh. “That’s…different.”

Helplessly, Tom stroked his back. “I know. But you can still have that. You’ll always have me.”

It didn’t need saying. Bill clutched at the front of Tom’s sweater, burrowing close like he wanted to crawl inside Tom and hide there. He made painful, choking little noises that had Tom breathe hectically in turn, swept along with the current of his twin’s despair.

“Please don’t,” he begged quietly. He couldn’t bear this. He wasn’t strong enough. “He’s not worth it.”

“He is,” Bill moaned. “He is and I knew that but I still fucked it up.”

“You didn’t.” Bill could be selfish, but he wasn’t deliberately cruel.

He laughed brokenly. “You don’t even know that. You love me too much.” He put his arms around Tom’s neck and clung.

It wasn’t like Bill to beat himself up like this. “Bullshit. Didn’t we always say whoever didn’t like us the way we were could fuck off?”

“But I don’t like me the way I am.” Bill’s sigh seemed to come from deep within.

The house phone rang. They ignored it until the answering machine went on, but after a minute, it rang again, and then again after another minute. “Fuck,” Tom muttered. He dragged Bill to his feet and into the kitchen, where the phone sat on the counter, blinking impatiently at them. Tom glanced at the caller’s number. “Georg! Honestly, what could be so urgent--”

Bill’s head snapped up. “The baby!”

Tom had almost forgotten all about that. The last time he’d seen Georg’s pregnant girlfriend had been a couple of months ago, and Janina had been huge then; Tom hadn’t been able to imagine that she’d last almost until Christmas without popping, and maybe she hadn’t. He scrambled for the phone and put it on speaker. “Georg?”

“I have a son.” Georg sounded choked up. “I’m a father, Tom.”

Tom’s breath escaped on a long sigh. He looked at Bill, who looked back at him, a slow smile spreading over his ghastly black-and-white face. “Are you serious?” Tom asked wryly. “That poor kid.”

He heard Georg chuckle on the other end of the line. “He seems to like us just fine. Me and his, his mama.”

“How is Janina?” Bill wiped at his runny nose with the back of his hand, trying very hard to pull himself together. “Everyone okay?”

“She’s fine. The baby’s fine. I’m… “ Georg’s voice cracked. “Fuck, I don’t even know.”

Tom closed his eyes briefly against a surge of emotion. He’d been eleven when he’d first met Georg, still a kid himself. He was Tom’s best friend, his wingman, his drinking buddy and the object of his favorite jokes. And now he was a dad. It was mind-blowing. “Congratulations, man,” he said. “This is…something.”

“It really is.” Georg tried to gather his wits then. “So he’s fifty centimeters long and weighs just about three and a half kilos,” he rattled off. “We’re going to name him Alexander Martin Georg.”

Bill and Tom exchanged a look and had to laugh.

“Hey, we think it’s a nice name, okay?” The bassist sounded hurt.

“It is nice,” Bill conceded, chuckling gently. “You know us, we have to laugh at you, it’s a rule of life.”

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, I have to make more calls. Are you still coming to Magdeburg for Christmas?” Georg asked hopefully. “You need to see him, he’s… Damn, he’s beautiful. And tiny. His head fits in the palm of my hand!”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Bill promised. “We can’t wait to see him, Georg.” They hung up with a promise to talk again later.

“What a day,” Bill sighed. He rubbed his eyes. “Okay, I’ve had enough. Today should be a good day. Georg is a father. I’m going shopping.”

With Bill in this fragile state, Tom wasn’t sure if retail therapy was such a good idea. He didn’t want Bill outside where everyone could see him, look into his pale, stony face and read his emotions as in a book. Or maybe it was only Tom who could do that. He could feel what Bill felt, the pain that was like a hand gripping his neck, twisting him until he’d snap, but he still didn’t know why, or what had happened.

“The shops won’t even be open for much longer.”

“The department stores will be, for Christmas.” Bill snuffled determinedly.

“You’re not buying Georg’s son diamond studded pacifiers,” Tom said.

Bill tilted his head, considering. “What about rhinestones?”

“Tacky,” Tom decreed, which earned him a smack from his glitter-loving twin.

“No one asked you.” Bill turned up his nose.

“The baby could swallow them,” Tom said, and Bill had to admit that was true. “Buy them something useful.”

“I will not!” Bill seemed to consider the idea crassly offensive. He glowered at Tom until Tom laughed quietly, reached out and hugged Bill to him. Bill clutched at his back a little too hard for comfort.

“You really want to go out now?” Tom really would’ve preferred if his brother could’ve stayed in, stayed put, just this once, but Bill was already twitching restlessly, wanting to get out, away from the scene of the argument.

Neither of them had ever been really comfortable with staying calm, staying quiet, when there was trouble brewing. They weren’t exactly the most balanced people, within themselves. They were balanced between them, playing off each other’s moods and feelings, evening out the other’s hurts and upsets, and they were so used to being twins, revolving around a point outside of themselves, between them, that they were never really focused on their own inner self. Bill wanted to run, fine; but Tom didn’t want him to lose himself.

“Do you want me to come?”

“You hate shopping,” Bill murmured into Tom’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I’ll buy them something really nice.”

Very gently, Tom detached his twin from him so he could draw back and look into his eyes. Bill looked sad and tired, but not crazy with hysteria. “Okay, then I’m going to call security. You’re not going alone.”

“Of course not,” Bill said. “Ask Michael to be here as soon as he can. I’ll go get cleaned up.”

Their head of security sounded surly as always when Tom called him, and his mood didn’t improve by the news that he would have to take Bill shopping. Tom didn’t blame the man, but he didn’t have the
nerve to deal with annoyed staff just then on top of everything else. Luckily, Tom knew that as far as his little brother was concerned, he and the bodyguard were on the same page: Bill came first. Nothing would happen to him while Michael was around.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” the man said.

“Thank you.” Tom gripped the phone a little harder. They didn’t share confidences with their security personnel, but their bodyguards were so close to them so much of the time that it was impossible to ignore some things. “He’s not well,” Tom told the bodyguard quietly. “He’s upset and distracted. Keep an eye on him, okay?”

The man didn’t ask questions. “Always,” Michael assured him gruffly. “No worries, boss.”

Tom still worried, but there was nothing anyone could do about that. He ended the call and laid the phone on the kitchen counter, bracing his hands against the cool, stone surface of the countertop. He sighed deeply, trying to process the day’s conflicting feelings. Seeing Bill and Robert together, happy, had been a lot to take in, but watching them fall apart had been so much worse than Tom could’ve imagined. He’d complained about Robert coming into their life just that morning, but only now that the man was gone did Tom realize how much he’d already counted on Robert being there for Bill, making Bill happy, a constant presence in reality as much as he’d been in Bill’s mind and, by extension, Tom’s.

Robert couldn’t just leave. Bill couldn’t just let him. At least not without telling Tom why. Nothing about the situation made any sense.

There were footfalls in the hall and Tom looked up to see his brother return, now dressed in jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. He had washed his face and applied a thick new layer of make-up, which hid the telltale signs of crying. He’d pulled a black beanie low into his face, and on top of his head rested a pair of sunglasses even though it was already dark outside. They were a shield, and not from the sun.

Bill looked pale and somber in his funeral blacks. The clingy turtleneck made him appear even skinnier than usual, thin and bony like a skeleton. Usually they laughed about the ridiculous rumors surrounding Bill’s weight, but right then, he looked very small to Tom, very fragile and vulnerable. Tom wanted to reach out and hold him very carefully so he wouldn’t break.

“Are you sure--” he began, but Bill raised a hand, cutting him off.

“I’m not sure about anything anymore,” he said with a tired smile. “But I need to get out of here for an hour. Okay? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“Okay.” Tom fidgeted uneasily. “Michael will be here soon.”

“Good. I should get ready.”

Tom trailed after Bill to the closet in the hall that held their coats. Bill reached inside and pulled out a black-and-white wool coat at random, without much care for what he wore. He fished out a black scarf, which he wound around his neck like a noose. Tom watched him, frowning.

“Coat, scarf, gloves…” Bill’s eyes scanned the dressing table for his leather gloves and caught on a black top hat, which sat among the clutter of Bill’s sunglasses and other accessories. “He forgot his hat.” Bill touched a finger to the smooth, satiny brim of the hat, but shrunk back instantly as if he’d been burned. He drew a shuddering breath.

“I need to get out of here.” With long strides, he crossed the hall and flung the front door open.

Tom hurried after him. “Wait, your gloves.” Catching up on the stairs outside their door, he shoved them in Bill’s coat pocket.

A car pulled up outside their gate, their bodyguard’s old, battered SUV. Bill waved at him. “Thanks. I’ll be back soon.”

Tom watched him cross the yard and walk down the drive to the gate. Bill climbed into the passenger seat of the car, which drove off into the night. Tom stood still for a moment, just outside the bright rectangle of light that spilled through the door into the dark front yard. The wind was blowing harshly tonight. It was cold out here. Shivering, he went back inside and locked the door on the chilly winter night that crept through all the cracks and right into his bones.

Numbly, he went downstairs into the studio, his feet on autopilot. The house was warm, but he just couldn’t get comfortable, not even on the soft, worn couch they had put in the practice room in the basement and which was usually a favorite spot of Tom’s. He got his best guitar and tried to play for a while, determinedly shutting everything else that was not music out of his mind.

He couldn’t sit still for long, though, so he slung the guitar strap around his neck and stood, one foot propped up on his amp, the way he stood on stage as he played, every muscle in his body drawn tight, his heart beating in time with the rhythm of the song. Playing, performing, was second nature; muscle memory drove him through the motions when his mind couldn’t focus. He didn’t need to think, didn’t need to decide what to do next. It was already mapped out for him in music, in escalating notes that he could climb like stairs, up to the apex of the song, and back down on winding, melodic paths. Even without bass or drums, he could feel the beat inside, matched to the throb of his pulse, or maybe it was the other way around: his blood knew the rhythm of the music, rushed to match the frantic pace.

He played loudly, letting the guitar whine and screech, thinking of nothing and everything: his twin, their music, their band of brothers, Gustav and Georg, who now had a family of his own. He thought of concerts in front of thousands of people, of long nights on the road, or triumph and agony, laughter and homesickness, this house and the people they loved a world away, always left behind; of having to go, leave, pack up and feel the heartbreak over and over again to chase the screams that drowned out the quiet moments, so few and far between, when he could lay himself down in silence and just feel.

Breathless, Tom let the last chord fade away. It floated on the air for a moment, weightless, before it disappeared like it had never been, only the heaviness of the guitar around his neck and the ache in his arms remaining for proof. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and trickling down his spine under his heavy winter clothes. He’d played like he meant it, like he was on stage and had to make every note count, and it had felt good, but now Tom was exhausted. He put the white Custom on its stand in the corner, tiredly shaking out his heavy limbs. A glance at his watch showed that he had played for almost two hours, the entire set list of their last tour. Hopefully, Bill wouldn’t be long now.

As if on cue, he heard the front door bang. Relieved, Tom jogged up the stairs, opening the basement door with a greeting to his brother on his lips, but it wasn’t Bill who had come in. By the front door stood Erika, a frown on her face. Her long winter boots were sprinkled with mud, and snow was melting in her hair and on her coat, dripping softly to the floor. She was shaking uncontrollably, frozen through by the bitter, cold winter wind.

“Where were you?” she cried. “I tried calling you a hundred times!”

If Tom had been physically able to kick himself in the nuts, he would have. “Baby, I’m sorry--”

“Save it!” she hissed, pushing past him to the coat rack. Her boots squeaked with every step she took. Shivering, she shrugged off her jacket and a damp cardigan she wore underneath and hung both up to dry. Her lips were blue with the cold. “Just tell me why you forgot all about me!”

“I didn’t…” Tom started, but it was a lie. Overwhelmed with all that had happened, he had forgotten about her. “I’m sorry.”

“They said on the news that tonight is supposed to be the coldest night of the year.” She could barely force out the words through her chattering teeth. “It took me almost two hours to get here. Why, Tom?”

He stepped up to her and enfolded her in his arms. She felt like a living, breathing popsicle. Quickly, Tom took off his sweater and slung it over her shoulders, wrapping her up in the abundant material. “Bill had a crisis,” he murmured into her wet hair. He plucked the white, chunky knit hat she was wearing off her head and brushed the long blonde strands back from her face. “He and Robert fought.”

“They fought? About what?”

“I don’t know.”

She punched him half-heartedly in the chest. “And you couldn’t have spared one minute to text me or something?”

Tom didn’t even know where his phone was. He certainly hadn’t heard it ring. Maybe he’d left it in the car in his hurry when he got home. “I’m sorry.” He rubbed her back, trying to warm her up, but she was stiff in his arms.

“I need to get out of these clothes, they’re wet.” She removed his arms from around her with a sharp jerk of her shoulders and stepped back, hugging herself.

Tom leered playfully. “Take them off and get in bed, I’ll make tea--”

“I know you! I’m not getting into your bed!” Her voice rose shrilly. “Fucking won’t make all your problems go away!”

That hadn’t even been the first thing on Tom’s mind, but, he admitted, probably the second. “But it might warm you up?” he joked feebly.

He received only a glare in return. Erika turned abruptly and stalked up the stairs, her movements edgy with lingering cold.

Tom wanted to go after her, see if she was all right, but he could tell his attentions wouldn’t be welcome just now. Instead, he went into the kitchen, where he put on the kettle for a pot of tea. He heard his girlfriend rummage around upstairs, and a few minutes later, she came back down wearing one of his sweatshirts as a dress, paired with the leggings which she’d worn under her jeans and which had apparently stayed dry. Her hair was dark and damp with melting snowflakes, and her face flushed pink with the sudden change of temperature, winter cold giving way to the warmth of the house. She looked cozy now; Tom wanted to put her on the couch under a pile of blankets, feed her cookies and cuddle her until she stopped scowling at him.

“Tea?” he asked carefully.

“Hot chocolate,” she demanded. He had hardly ever seen her so short and brusque, so irritated.

He fought the urge to fidget with nerves. “I, uh, I don’t think we have that.”

“I know. I’m the only one around here who likes it, so why would you have any.” She snorted bitterly.

Tom made a mental note to pay more attention to the contents of their fridge. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch, get warm?”

The scowl she leveled at him told him that neither blankets nor cuddling would be enough to calm her down just yet, but she went, shivering, into the next room. As soon as she was out of sight, Tom snatched the phone off the kitchen counter and dialed Bill’s number.

“Tom, I’ll be back soon, you don’t have to--”

“Yeah, all right!” Tom hissed. “It’s fine, take your time, just… Could you bring some chocolate milk?”

“Chocolate milk?” Bill sounded puzzled.

Tom swallowed hard. “For Erika. She’s really pissed off.”

“And why is that?” Bill asked nosily.

“I stood her up,” Tom admitted and heard his twin harrumph on the other end of the line. “But not on purpose!”

“Tom, how could you!”

“Will you bring the chocolate milk?” Tom snapped.

“Sure, sure. You come up with a plan to make it up to her! Because chocolate milk won’t cut it!” Bill advised him.

“I know that,” Tom whispered. “Believe me, I know. I have to go.”

“I’m on my way back,” Bill promised. “Be nice, Tom.”

Tom was going to be nice. He was going to be so nice she had to forgive him and cheer up. She had to, because he couldn’t handle another crisis today.

He poured a cup of tea and cautiously walked into the living room, where Erika sat on the couch, her back to him. He took care to approach her from the side, not from behind, like one did angry horses. He set the cup down on the table in front of her, then perched on a chair across from her, reluctant to force closeness in case she’d misunderstand again.

“I’m sorry, baby. I had so much going on, I… I forgot.”

She glanced at him darkly. “What happened?”

Tom sighed. “I couldn’t tell you.”

“You couldn’t or you don’t want to?”

“I don’t know, okay?” It stung to admit it, and that she’d ask in the first place. “When I got home, they had fought, Robert ran off, then Bill was crying and I didn’t, I couldn’t really think of anything else.”

It was her turn to sigh. “Poor guys. Where’s Bill now?”

“He went shopping.”

She squinted irritably. “He isn’t even here?”

Tom bit his lip. “No.”

“So what have you been doing?” she snapped. “After he left, you couldn’t have called me to let me know you weren’t--”

“I forgot, okay? I forgot and I’m sorry, but it’s been crazy these past few hours! Bill freaked me out, he was, he was…” Tom clamped his mouth shut, scowling. “It was bad. Believe me.”

“Then why aren’t you with him right now?”

Tom felt his chest tighten. He breathed hectically through his nose, nostrils flaring, but he couldn’t get enough air. He felt lightheaded with anger. For over a year, she had watched him and Bill together, she knew how close they were, she knew how their dynamic worked, or at least Tom had thought so, because if she could say things like this, things that questioned his entire relationship with Bill, she didn’t get it at all; that, or she was trying to hurt him on purpose.

“He can need me and still need time alone,” he growled.

“Sure,” she nodded, “But why did you need time alone?”

“I didn’t, I, fuck, I told you I was sorry!”

“You just forgot about me! Like we haven’t been together for over a year, like I’m not even a part of your life at all--”

“That’s bullshit!”

“Is it?”

At some point, they had both started shouting. It hurt Tom’s head. He jumped up and paced along the coffee table and back, turning sharply on his heel.

“Your brother cries and you have the crisis! He’s not even here, it’s not like you had to take care of him--”

“What do you know about it?” he yelled. “You don’t have a twin, you wouldn’t understand how it feels!”

“No, but--”

“I had to take care of him! And even when he’s not there I have to worry about him, because he never worries about himself!” Tom knew he was working himself up into a rage, but he couldn’t stop himself. The stress of the previous hours was suddenly culminating, making him shake with the force of it, and he couldn’t stop shouting. “God, stop being so fucking jealous!”

“I’m not jealous! You know I love Bill!” She drew in on herself, hugging her knees to her chest. He knew he was doing her an injustice, but Tom couldn’t bring himself to see past the momentary hurt and anger. He couldn’t see straight at all.

“I care about him, I worry about him too, you know he’s like my brother--”

“But he actually is my brother,” Tom spat. “And if you hadn’t brought him together with Robert, all of this wouldn’t have happened!”

Erika stood in one fluid motion and drew herself up to her full height, never mind that she still only reached his shoulder. When she was angry, she looked taller to Tom, always had; intimidating in the way her eyes sparked with blue fire. “Don’t you make this out to be my fault,” she hissed. “You only want to blame me so you don’t have to feel guilty because tonight you were a shitty boyfriend.”

Tom’s head spun like he’d been slapped. He balled his fists at his sides. “Wow. Are you on your period?”

She blushed bright red with anger. “See, that’s exactly what I mean! Anything to shift the blame! Just so you’re not responsible for the things you fuck up!”

“You just don’t get it, do you,” he snapped. “Bill--”

“Bill is not an idiot, he can take care of himself,” she retorted hotly.

“No, he can’t!” Tom realized he was screaming at her now, but he couldn’t stop himself. What concerned Bill, concerned him. Even the implication that it didn’t, that it shouldn’t, made new rage flood his system like poison. “He’s so far gone, he can’t even see straight for how much he’s in love with Robert. You should’ve seen him! He needs me.”

She faced up to him seriously, trembling with emotion. “You need him to need you,” she said, more quietly now. “Why can’t you just let Bill be--”

“I tried! I tried and he got hurt!”

“What do you know, they might patch things up--”

“Or not!”

“Then he might get hurt.” She tried to put her hands on his chest, but where her touch calmed him at any other time, it now made him prickle with annoyance. He shook her off.

Hurt, she drew back. “If he does, we’ll pick him up and let him cry it out. All of us, together! But let him work out for himself what he wants! I mean, have you seen him, the way he lights up when he looks at Robert--”

“Don’t tell me about Bill!” Tom spat, at the end of his patience. “God, shut up.”

Erika’s sweet, beautiful face set tightly with anger. “Okay,” she snapped, and turned around to march out into the hall, where she pulled on her boots.

Startled, Tom followed her. “Where are you going?”

“Back to my place.” She struggled to pull on her coat over the bulk of his oversized sweatshirt. “I’d ask you to take me home, but you don’t have a car.”

He bristled. That was a low blow. “Even if I had one, I wouldn’t take you.”

She glanced at him with wide, shocked eyes, and Tom wanted to tell her that he hadn’t meant it like that, but anger was choking him up and no words of kindness would come.

“Fine.” She pulled her hat over her damp hair and hurried out. Outside their front door, she slipped on the frozen stairs and fell, scraping her knees on the icy gravel of the drive, but he didn’t move to pull her up and she didn’t look for his help. She straightened shakily and turned around to him once more. “Call me when you’re ready to talk like a normal person.”

Even now, angry and upset, she was keeping his options open for him. Tom could see it, and feel suitably ashamed for his own behavior, but still, he couldn’t bring himself to be as generous. He shuffled his feet on the doormat like a sullen child, his hands buried deeply in his pockets, and said nothing.

Erika’s face crumpled. “‘Kay. Bye.” He didn’t see the tears falling, but he heard them in her voice. She turned away abruptly and walked down the frozen driveway when the gate opened and Michael’s car drove in. It slowed to a stop halfway up to the house, and Bill rolled down the window on the passenger side.

“Hey, Erika, are you okay--”

“Yeah, fine. Bye, Bill.” Her voice shook, but she trudged on through the slush, down the street in the direction of the tram.

Bill jumped out of the car and strode up to the house, where Tom still stood, frozen to the doormat. “What happened? Why was she crying?”

Tom winced. “We fought.”

“About what?” Bill exclaimed. “What could possibly have happened that you’d let her leave like this?”

“I don’t know, stuff.” Tom hung his head. He’d always known he wasn’t boyfriend material; but he’d been doing so well. Almost eighteen months, and they’d never really fought aside from small, unimportant arguments. After the enormous blunder he’d made when he posed as Bill for her, they’d worked out their differences, and maybe the hurdle they’d had to overcome before they entered into a relationship had put the small annoyances in perspective. But now he’d upset her, and Tom didn’t know what to do. He wanted to be there for her, but he couldn’t not worry about Bill, and right now, it felt impossible to take care of them both.

He breathed deeply through his mouth, trying to keep the rising panic under control inside. “I fucked up,” he told Bill hollowly. “She said I was a shitty boyfriend.”

“She was upset,” Bill allowed. “I don’t think she really meant that.”

“What if she did?” Tom wondered. “What if I just can’t do it?”

“But you have been doing it!” Bill said. “Things have been great. Don’t start doubting everything just because you’ve hit a rough patch. You’ve been there before, and you worked it out. Go after her!”

“I can’t,” Tom said. “I really pissed her off.”

“All the more reason!” Bill dug through his bag and flung the keys for his car at his twin. “Go! Do you want the fans to find her first? Or Bild? While she’s crying?”

“No!” Tom shuddered. He hadn’t even thought of that. He dithered by the door a moment longer, undecided. “What about you, are you--”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll live.” Bill waved his hand dismissively. “This is more important.”

“But we’ll talk later?” Tom asked.

“Of course.” His twin gave him a grateful smile. He flung his arms around Tom and hugged him briefly. “You know I always tell you everything. Eventually.”

Tom nodded, relieved. Clutching the keys in his palm, he climbed into Bill’s car and reversed down the driveway, past the puzzled-looking bodyguard and into the frozen street. Snowflakes were dancing on sharp gusts of wind now; it was going to be a cold night. He drove around the block, searching for a petite girl in a bright blue winter coat. After only a couple of minutes, he saw her; she hadn’t gotten far. The sidewalks were frozen over, and she was stumbling along, slipping and sliding unsteadily. He let the car slow down until he was driving along next to her, and from his vantage point, he could see that she was sobbing.

Tom rolled the passenger side window down. “Erika, wait.”

Startled, she glanced up. “Go away!”

“No.” He sighed. “Come on, get in. I’ll take you home if that’s where you want to go.”

She wiped her snotty nose with the back of her gloved hand. “You said you wouldn’t drive me if you had a car.”

“Yeah.” Tom swallowed down his shame. “But what I meant was, I didn’t want you to go.”

She glanced at him through the window. “Did Bill tell you to say that?”

He frowned. “He didn’t have to.”

Erika’s huff evaporated as a white cloud of warm air in the winter cold.

“Get in,” Tom pleaded. “Your lips are blue.”

She hesitated for a moment, shivering on the curb. Then, she pulled the door open and climbed into the car. Up close, she looked terrible: her lips were turning a dead, greyish purple, and her tears had cut red lines into her cheeks where the frosty wind had dried them. The damp ends of her hair were frozen, and her leggings stuck wetly to her knees where she’d scraped them and bled. In the warmth of the car, she trembled with the sudden rush of warmth to her cold limbs. “You can drive me,” she said through chattering teeth. “But only because it’s so cold.”

He swore. Having been with her last winter, he was sure she’d run a fever by tonight if he didn’t warm her up quick. Tom turned the car around and drove back to his house.

“Where are you going?” Erika asked irritably.

“Home.” She could yell at him all she wanted, but he wasn’t going to let her get seriously ill.

“I want to go back to my place,” she protested.

“Your place doesn’t have a bathtub, mine does,” he said. “And that’s where you’re going.”

“I’m not going to have sex with you,” she hiccoughed. “So if that’s what you’re planning, you can--”

“I’m not, okay?” Tom snapped. “Just let me take care of you, damn it.”

Erika fell silent. Her mouth wobbled uncertainly.

“I’ll take you home later if you want,” he continued, forcing himself to calm down. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” she said after a moment’s consideration.

This time, when they got back to the house, he didn’t hesitate. He put his arm around her shoulders and led her upstairs, supporting her when she stumbled along on wobbly legs. He ushered her into his bathroom and began to pull her clothes off of her unceremoniously, stopping only long enough to start the bathwater. He was still too irritated and upset to be particularly gentle, but when he saw the large, bloody cuts on her knees, something in him softened.

“Shit.” He wrapped a towel around her naked body for warmth, then sat her down on the edge of the tub and lifted one leg gently by the ankle, trying to assess the damage. The cuts weren’t bad, they weren’t even bleeding anymore, but seeing her sore knees made him feel suddenly ashamed. He cared about her; he didn’t want to see her hurting.

“They’re just scrapes.” She shivered and pushed away his hands. She was moving jerkily like a puppet on a string, worn out by the cold and exhaustion. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”

“The first aid kit is--”

“Under the sink. I know.” She glared up at him. “I can take a bath by myself. You were so worried about Bill, go and be with him.”

He had worried about Bill, but he also worried about her. Right now though, Tom just couldn’t argue anymore. He turned around and left like she’d told him to, his feet heavy like lead as he dragged himself downstairs.

Bill was sitting in the living room, taking long gulps from a water glass full of what looked like vodka and Red Bull. He hissed when he set it down. A little color had returned to his cheeks with the rush of the alcohol, but his eyes were still red-rimmed even under all his make-up and he looked morose like Tom had hardly ever seen him. He glanced up when Tom shuffled in. “Did you put her in the tub?”

“She’s not exactly in the mood to let me do anything to her.” Tom sighed. “What’d you get up to?”

“I made Michael drive me around, mostly. But I also found some really nice things.” Bill smiled a little. Shopping always cheered him up. He began to dig through the bag he’d dropped on the coffee table, tossing tiny clothes at Tom over his shoulder. “Look, aren’t these adorable?” he held up a little dress shirt and tie.

“He’ll be better dressed than Georg,” Tom smiled.

“Shirts, pants, socks… Look, how small!” He handed Tom a shoe box. “I bought these for you to give them.”

Tom sat down on the couch and opened the box to find the tiniest pair of sneakers he had ever seen. They were white and squeaky clean, just like Tom wore them, and they fit in the palm of his hand when he took them out, trying to picture the tiny feet that would fit into them. Suddenly, there was a lump in his throat. “Wow,” he said, low. “Georg is a dad.”

“Amazing,” Bill agreed. “Remember the first time we met him?”

Tom chuckled softly. Georg had been a pimply fourteen-year-old with floppy hair and a funny adolescent’s voice, but he’d been the first older guy who had taken the twins seriously, even when they didn’t show him the same courtesy. He’d patiently let Tom relegate him to playing bass instead of lead, and watched over him with the affection of an older brother while Tom improved his subpar guitar skills. The first time Tom had sex, he’d gone to Georg to brag, a fact which offended Bill to this day. Their first contract, first single, first award… They’d seen so much, done so much together, and now they got to see Georg hit a new milestone. It was crazy. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I don’t think Georg could, either.” Bill fished a tiny black onesie with a silver skulls and crossbones print from his bottomless bag. “Look at this! Aw, I think I’ll keep this one, Janina probably wouldn’t like it anyway.”

“Keep it?” Tom arched an eyebrow. “What for? In case you decide you want to get someone pregnant after all?”

Bill actually smirked in that wicked way he had when he was hatching a new plan for world domination. “Don’t be silly.”

“Bill,” Tom warned, “don’t get ideas.” He knew what happened when Bill got overly enthusiastic; a bloodhound was nothing compared to Bill pursuing an idea he was obsessed with. Unless he wanted to give his own sperm for the production of mini Kaulitzes, though, he had no say in this matter. Tom was resolved, and he was pretty sure he could resist Bill’s schemes if only this once.

“One of us has got to be lucky in love.” Bill clutched the onesie to his chest with a fond sigh. “I’d bet Erika would make beautiful babies. Just imagine!”

Imagining was frighteningly easy. “You don’t even like babies,” Tom said with rising despair.

“I would if they were yours!” Bill seemed to have thought about this a little too much. “You know I’d love them like my own! Well, they would be my own, in a way.” He smiled wistfully. “I love how that works!”

Tom felt oddly touched in spite of himself, but Bill didn’t need encouragement. “We have the dogs. That’s enough.”

“For now,” Bill allowed. He folded the onesie up neatly and put it back in an expensive-looking bag with golden lettering. “But I’m keeping this one. Just in case.”

Tom knew when an argument was useless. Knowing Bill’s attention span, he would store the bag away at the back of his closet and forget all about it anyway, preferably before he went to Erika with his ideas. She and Tom had talked about their tentative plans for the future before, and decided to postpone any decision until a later date, a date that wasn’t here yet as far as Tom was concerned. He had entertained vague fantasies about having a family sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night while he watched over his sleeping girlfriend. The thought didn’t scare him like it once had, but for the moment, Tom was happy to take things one day at a time. Hell, at the rate that things were going right now, he couldn’t even say what his relationship would be like tomorrow. He hoped Bill could take a hint.

Bill could. “You don’t have to be scared,” he said casually, tuned in to Tom’s thoughts as always. “You can talk to me about it. Whatever you say, I won’t hold you to your word if you change your mind. I’ll support you, no matter what. Always.”

“I know that,” Tom said gruffly. “It’s just, I don’t know. Right now she’s so mad at me, I’m not even sure she’ll ever let me touch her again.”

“She will.” Bill reached out and patted Tom’s hand. “And if it’s meant to be, it will be. I think it could make you happy. I’m sure it’d make Erika happy, she’s a nurturer. I know I’d be ecstatic.”

Tom bit back a smile. “But you always said you didn’t want kids.”

Bill waved him off. “I know I did, but we don’t have to be the same in this.”

“No, we don’t have to be,” Tom agreed. “But I… I’m not sure.”

“It was mostly about not wanting relationships with women. Before, I mean. Wasn’t it?” Bill asked shrewdly. He laughed a little. “I know it was for me.”

“That’s part of it.” Another part was the terrifying thought of being a father to a helpless little kid. They didn’t have a good relationship with their dad, and Gordon had always been more like a big brother. In all honesty, Tom wasn’t sure he knew what the hell a father was supposed to do.

“What are you thinking?”

Tom felt a bony elbow poke at his ribs and realized he was staring into the middle distance, a frown tugging at his mouth. “Huh? Oh, just, stuff.”

“Bad stuff? You have that look.” Bill’s gaze was penetrating. “What is it?”

Tom shook his head. “Nothing.”

Bill just raised an eyebrow.

“I was just thinking about dad,” Tom relented, sighing.

“Don’t even start comparing yourself to him,” Bill said firmly. “You’re not like that. You wouldn’t be.”

“How do you know?” Tom picked at the fabric of his jeans. They were worn thin at the knees. When he was a kid, his mother would kiss the bruises on his knees when he came home after another playground fight, and sew patches on the inevitable holes in his pants. His mom, who had always been everything for him and Bill, mother and father, friend and confidante. She hadn’t deserved her deadbeat husband, just like Erika didn’t deserve a partner who barely knew how to handle adult relationships, let alone anything about raising kids.

A partner who’d screamed at her, disrespected her, send her out into the cold and didn’t even know how to apologize for it all.

“Would you stop it?” Bill shook him lightly. “You’re thinking the most horrible things. I can tell!”

Tom shrugged. “I just, I don’t know if I could do it. Kids. You know, even if I wanted to. I can barely juggle being with you and with Erika too.”

“Is that what you fought about?” Bill groaned. “Please tell me that had nothing to do with me.”

“No, well, yes, but… It’s complicated,” Tom admitted.

“What happened?” Bill asked gently. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I said I’d pick her up after class. I forgot. She was mad.”

Bill’s look was piercing. “And then you did what?”

Tom glared. Trust Bill to poke him where it hurt, make him feel even more guilty. “We started arguing. And then she left.”

“Right.” His twin sighed deeply. “Okay, I’m not even going to ask what you argued about. It doesn’t matter, you hear me? I watched the only guy I’ve cared about in a long time walk away from me today, and I don’t want to see anyone else running. One of us has to be happy!”

He sounded like their mother at her sternest. Tom cracked a small smile. “I want both of us to be happy.”

Bill shrugged. “Maybe that’s too much to ask.”

Tom looked down at his socked feet, which were lined up with Bill’s along the edge of the couch. Their small toes touched, even though neither of them had consciously sought physical contact. It just happened, and Tom could never imagine it being any other way, but maybe they could let in other people without having to let go of the bond between them. “I’m really glad you like Erika so much.”

“I’m glad too.” Bill’s small toe nudged Tom’s. “For you to find someone you love that I can care about too… It’s special. I don’t take it for granted.” He sighed. “Especially now that Robert...”

“He what?” Tom prompted carefully. “Please tell me. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Bill bowed his head. “Too late,” he whispered.

Tom felt his whole body draw taut with the new surge of murderous rage that swept through him. It was hard to keep his voice even and quiet. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s not his fault,” Bill said, immediately sensing Tom’s mood. “Really, Tom, it isn’t. I fucked up. He’s…he’s wonderful.”

Tom snorted loudly.

“No, really, he is.” Bill twisted his fingers together in his lap. His nail polish was chipped in places; he must’ve picked at it, a nervous habit from his childhood days that had almost been forgotten. He was silent for a minute, gathering his thoughts, leaning in to Tom for support, and Tom waited, if not quite patiently. “I’m you,” Bill said at last. “I really am. I’ve always said it, but I never realized how true it was.”

“What do you mean?”

Bill shook his head. “I can’t believe this!”

“Believe what?” Tom prodded. Just that afternoon, everything had been great. He’d left Bill and Robert alone to gaze soulfully into each other’s eyes, a hundred percent certain of his little brother’s conquest, and when he returned, Bill was beside himself and the emotional fallout of the pair’s fight was hanging heavily in the air. Tom couldn’t understand how things had blown up so quickly. Bill’s temper was volatile, but he was never careless or cruel with the people he cared about. Tom just didn’t see how any of this could be his fault.

“I had sex with him.” Bill’s voice was barely a whisper. “I had sex with him and then I panicked.”

Tom’s eyes almost popped out of his head. Bill wasn’t easy in any sense of the word, never had been. For him to let anyone close enough to touch him in any way… It was rare. More than rare. It had never happened, not since they’d gotten really famous. Oh, there had been a few people, men and women alike, with whom Bill had experimented in an almost clinical manner, but those encounters had never been give-and-take, a natural exchange of pleasure, a shared experience. Bill had taken what he wanted, dealt out favors like a king to his inferiors, and then withdrawn when his partners demanded that he let them reciprocate. He’d researched his own preferences in the detached manner of a scientist, but his heart had never been in it, and for the past couple of years, he’d withdrawn into the safe, comfortable circle of his close friends and family, unable to let in anyone new. Reality never had been able to live up to his fantasies. Not until Robert. And now, and now…

Tom twisted around so he could look at Bill fully, cup his cheek and turn Bill’s face towards him. “You fucked him? You actually--”

“Don’t call it that!” Bill shuddered violently.

On any other occasion, Tom would’ve whooped and cheered, congratulated his baby brother on finally getting laid, but now, with black tears trickling quietly into his palm again, he could only sputter out, “But what happened?”

Bill heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. One minute, we were kissing, and then he was touching me and I was touching him and it was… It was lovely.” He sobbed once. “And then I realized what I was doing, and I just, I got scared. I broke all my own rules, I slept with someone I hardly know, in our home, in my bed, and it was, it was too much.”

Tom was at a loss for what to say. He understood all too well the need to keep a healthy distance from one’s sex partners. It was how Tom had operated for years, before Erika. It was only with her that he’d begun to long for closeness. The further she’d pushed him away in the beginning, the more he’d wanted it, until he couldn’t imagine a life without her anymore. He had always assumed that was what Bill wanted, too, what he’d been going on about throughout his teenage years whenever he was asked how he envisioned his future.

“I’ve gone about it all backwards,” Bill cried. “I made this huge step, and what if I was wrong and he’s not the right one after all?”

Tom shrugged uncertainly. Instinct was what guided Bill through life, always had. “Did it feel wrong while you were f--, doing it?”

“No,” Bill sniffled.

That was a relief; Tom wouldn’t have to hunt the man down and kill him. “Then why do you think you were wrong about him?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure about anything anymore.”

“Isn’t that what love’s supposed to feel like?” Tom smiled slowly. “That’s what you told me, anyway, when I was going crazy over Erika.”

Bill shrugged his bony shoulders. “Love.” He hung his head. “He’ll probably hate me now.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I said we couldn’t, I couldn’t… I needed some space.”

“You kicked him out,” Tom summed up.

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” Bill sniffled. “And I wasn’t talking sense, I said things that I didn’t mean, I told him it was a mistake, that it’d been just a whim and I didn’t really… Oh god, Tom!” Whimpering, he hid his face in his hands.

Tom sighed. “And I thought taking girls out of the equation meant less drama.”

“You’re not being funny,” his brother moaned.

No; nothing about the situation was funny at all. “I’m sorry,” Tom said, low. “I wish things had been different.”

Bill elbowed him tiredly. “But you never cared for Robert. You weren’t happy about any of this from the start.”

“That’s not true.” Tom felt guilty now for not being supportive. If he’d been a better brother, if he’d tried to make sense of Bill’s feelings the way he was supposed to instead of dismissing them, maybe Bill wouldn’t have made rash, confused decisions. Or maybe he wouldn’t have panicked at being close to someone, someone who was not Tom. It had been them, and only them, together for so many years, Tom had gotten used to having Bill all to himself. He hadn’t ever thought about what the self-imposed solitude might do to Bill.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I only ever wanted you to be happy.”

“I know,” Bill whispered.

“I’ll try harder, okay?” Tom promised. “I won’t kill Robert when he comes back.”

Bill chuckled softly. “You think he’ll come back?”

Tom glanced up; they shared a long, affectionate look. “He’d be an idiot if he didn’t.”

Bill’s next laugh sounded more like a sob. He leaned into Tom’s side and laid his head on his twin’s shoulder, and they sat in silence like that for a long time, darkness falling outside and creeping into the silent living room with the winter cold. Neither of them moved to switch on the lights, unwilling to let go, break the moment of quiet comfort.

“And you’re an idiot if you don’t fix things with Erika,” Bill whispered after a while. He nudged Tom gently with his elbow. “Come on, go to her. She must be all shriveled up by now.”

Tom released a long breath. “Did you bring the chocolate milk?”

“Yeah, it’s in the fridge.”

“All right,” Tom nodded. “Are you okay?”

“Not really. But there’s nothing anyone can do about that right now.” Bill gave him a tired smile. “Go. Don’t make me kick your ass.”

Tom only made a quick detour to the kitchen; then, he went to see his girlfriend.