diamondicecream (diamondicecream) wrote,
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Tokio Hotel: Sex, Lies, & Videotape 8/??

Title: Sex, Lies, & Videotape: Chapter 8/20(ish) - Spilt Milk
Genre: Slash
Characters: Andreas, Bill Kaulitz, David Jost, Georg Listing, Gustav Schafer, OMC, Simone Trumper, Tom Kaulitz
Pairing: Bill/Tom, Bill/OMC, Bill/Andi, Tom/OMC
Rating: NC17
Category: AU, Angst, Drama, Twincest
Words (in chapter): 5767
Warning: Abuse, Adult Content, Bondage, Cross Dressing, Heavy Kink, Humiliation, Incest, Minor Character Death, Non-Con/Rape, Pedophilia, Uder-Age Erotica, Violence, WIP
Summary: Simone receives mysterious videotapes in the mail of her twins. How will the family deal with the content of the tapes, and will they all survive the aftermath?
Note: By far my darkest fic EVER. This story stemmed from one lyric in the song Liar, Liar by The Used. I've never written anything with this type of content before.




Groaning, Bill turned over and fisted his cellphone. Cracking one eye open to look at the name flashing on the small screen, he saw that it was another text from Andi and threw the offending piece across the room. It landed safely on a pile of clothes and continued it’s tinkling; a mixture of wind chimes and birds. Bill was regretting the decision to make that particular tone the sound for his text messages. As he rolled over and covered his head with his pillow, the ringing continued.

After a few start-stop-start-stop ringtone sessions, Bill knew he wasn’t going to win the battle against Andi’s determination to get a response. Throwing the covers off his body, Bill wondered why he hadn’t just turned the small phone off, or even simply put it on silence. Crossing the room on shaky legs, he picked the phone up and clicked the volume button on the side silencing it.

“Bill, I’m sorry.”

“Please respond.”

“I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Please call me.”


Sighing, he set the phone on his desk and went to his closet. He pulled the closest shirt off a hanger on his side of the closet and grabbed another pair of track pants from his drawers. Getting dressed wasn’t a priority in his mind at the moment, he just wanted his phone to stop buzzing and tinkling at him. Snatching his phone off the desk, he left the room after he was changed, padding down the stairs and into the kitchen barefoot.

He wanted to forgive his best friend, but at the same time, he didn’t feel he was quite ready to forgive such a grievous offense. Andi had stolen a very precious possession from him. Bill entered the kitchen with the phone clutched gently in his fist, the numerous apologies flipping over each other in his mind. He set the phone on the kitchen table as he passed it and his eyes met his brother’s. Tom was leaning with his hips against the counter edge, a bowl of cereal clutched in his hands. He nodded and Bill averted his eyes, nodding back.

Stepping out of Bill’s way, Tom watched as his brother reached into the cabinet next to his head to retrieve a glass. Setting it quietly on the counter, he opened the fridge and grabbed a carton of milk, all the while his brother’s eyes followed each movement while carefully spooning bites of cereal into his mouth. Bill gently replaced the carton and shut the fridge, after pouring some of the milk into his glass, and mimicked his brother’s stance; hips against the counter ledge, both hands holding his cup in front of him.

“You haven’t eaten,” Tom accused, finishing the last bit of milk remaining in his bowl. He set the dish between them on the counter and shifted so that he was facing his twin, hip now repositioned against the ledge. Bill sipped at his milk and ignored the question. Eyes glued to his brother, the anger inside Tom grew. Bill had promised he’d been eating, but Tom couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his brother take a bite of anything. They stayed in that awkward silence for an extended moment, Tom staring at his brother’s profile.

Bill shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest, the glass of milk tucked in against his bicep and chest. More accusations flew past his brother’s lips, each one digging a little deeper. He wanted to admit to his twin that he hadn’t eaten anything more solid than a couple of yogurts in about four days. The urge to sit on the floor and cry about his lost kiss and his lack of hunger was strong, but he resisted. Tooth and nail, he fought to keep composed and, continuously, his head shook back and forth denying all of Tom’s claims and accusations about his eating habits and weight-loss.

The tension crackled through the room and weaved an electric path in-between them. The anger level kept rising until it felt as if their words we tangible, the tension causing the words to pass through the thick air sluggishly. Voices rose and tempers flared as the argument transformed into a heated match of older sibling versus younger sibling. Demanding versus defiance. One twin was arguing for privacy and the other arguing out of concern. Before the argument could become physical, which they both felt was about to happen, their mother entered the kitchen, jolting them both into silence as neither had known she was still at home. The boys glanced at each other, their jaws clenched with the effort it took to keep the burning words behind their teeth. The sudden silence echoed throughout the room.

Bill broke the quiet by asking his mother why she wasn’t at work. Reaching for a mug hanging from the rack above the sink, she gave a half-attempt at explaining she didn’t feel well. She grabbed the pot of coffee from its spot in the corner of the counter to the right of Tom and quickly poured a full cup. The twins shuffled down along the edge of the counter so she could reach the sugar unobstructed, Bill ending up directly in front of the fridge. Simone left her coffee without cream and positioned herself against the front of the sink, blowing softly to cool the liquid in her mug.

“What were you arguing about?” She asked casually, trying to ignore the ache in her belly at the way Bill was clutching his arms tight around his torso. Tom scoffed in response and Bill simply shook his head, keeping his head bowed. Sipping at her coffee she nodded; she’d heard the entire argument from the stairs, she really didn’t need them to repeat it to her.

Attempting to make conversation with her boys, Simone asked about their friends, their plans for the day, Andi. Bill mumbled in response, edging closer to the door with each answer, milk abandoned on the counter. He didn’t feel like being interrogated by his mother in addition to his brother. There was only so much pressure he could handle. With every mumbled answer, she’d nod, and fire off another seemingly innocent question until finally Bill was in the doorway and Tom had had enough. He exploded, slamming his fist against the counter behind him causing everyone else in the room to jump. “Don’t pretend you care now when you never did before.”

“I’ve always cared, Tom.” The laughter escaping Tom’s throat was twisted and unrecognizable.

Laughing in her face, invading her personal boundaries, Tom spat out angry retorts. She would have noticed their abuse from the very beginning, had she really cared about her boys. She would have stopped it, fixed it, prevented it. But, she didn’t do any of that. She pulled them from school and made their lives even more nightmarish. Tom cursed in his mother’s face, screamed at her lack of concern when they needed it. Yelled at her letting her know they were adults now, they didn’t need her. She was worthless to them then and was even more worthless now. Tom shouted at her, cursing her name and telling of how he had wished for a different mother.

A mother who would have protected his baby brother. One who would have stopped everything before it even happened. A mother who loved them and cared about their well-being, not one who was too busy doing everything her husband told her to. A woman who didn’t notice the bruises, the cuts, the depression. A mother blind to the pain in her children’s eyes. What use of a mother was she if she turned her back against her cherished sons?

Tears stinging her eyes, Simone slapped Tom. “Stop it!”

Tom took a step back breathing heavily, fists balled at his sides. His cheek smarted and his heart ached for speaking to his mother with such disrespect. Bill stood in the doorway watching in horror as his mother gasped and her hand covered her mouth. What had she done? She had never hit one of her boys. Liquid pooled in her eyes as she stared at her eldest son.

“Tom...” Bill whispered from his frozen spot across the room. Simone and Tom turned their attention to him and Tom strode towards the door, but his brother stepped in front of his path.

“How can I help you if you won’t talk to me? You won’t even tell me who did this so I can call the police! I want to help you, Tom, please, just let me help you....please.” Simone was crying, fat tears slopping over her lashes and running down her cheeks. Tom stopped mid-stride and Bill grabbed his arm, shaking his head repeatedly. He could tell Tom was about to blurt out in anger what they’d kept secret for so long. Begging with his eyes and shaking his head, Bill’s grip tightened on Tom’s forearm. “Tom,” he whispered again.

Jerking out of his twin’s grasp, Tom turned back towards their mother. “Why do you want to know so bad, mother? Are you so sick and perverse that you want to know the person who made your boys do such degrading things?” Simone was shaking her head as Tom barked out hateful words. Did she really want to know? Whatever was going through her mind, she wasn’t prepared for the words her son spoke next. “Well guess what, mom, you already know him,” Tom spat, his words laced with malice. Bill’s hand around his arm was back, a vice against him. “Please, Tomi”.

Ignoring his brother, Tom continued, “your precious husband.” Bill’s hand dropped from Tom’s forearm and he felt sick with the tears he knew were inevitable coming. The nausea was sloshing in his stomach.

Tom turned away from his mother’s shocked and crumbling face only to meet his brother’s betrayed eyes. Bill didn’t have to say anything for Tom to know this may have been too much damage to repair. Tears were slipping from Bill’s eyes and the ache that Tom had felt in his heart about how he’d spoken to his mother manifested into a throbbing in his entire body at what he'd just done to his twin. He hadn’t meant to hurt his brother, he’d just wanted his mother to leave them alone. The anger inside him needed an outlet and she happened to be the source of it, so why not let her have what she'd caused, in Tom's mind. The guilt started in his toes and crept its way through his veins until it made a home in his throat, choking him, cutting off his air. A humming began in his ears.

Wanting to take Bill in to his arms, promise him he’d make it better, he’d fix their lives, Tom just stood in front of his twin. “How....could...” Bill sniffed and turned on his heel, running up the stairs to the bedroom they shared. It took Tom a hesitant second to jolt himself into following his brother up the stairs while Simone stood watching her boys flee. Even after taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the bedroom door only in time for it to be slammed in his face.

He threw his fist against the door and begged entrance. The whimpers on the other side were muffled, but still audible, and flavouring the guilt pitted in Tom's stomach with shame. Pressing his forehead against the door, he whispered to his brother to let him come in. It’ll be okay, they have each other, they don’t need anyone else. It doesn’t matter what’s been said, Tom promised he could fix it. He’d fix everything for them.

Bill wiped his eyes with his arm and bent his body, palms resting above his knees. He was taking deep breaths, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him. How could Tom do that to him? That was their secret. His chest felt constricted and he rubbed at it, fisting the fabric of his shirt. Tom had no right to tell it to anyone, especially their mother. Swallowing back a sob, he slammed his fist against the door behind him and slid down it, arms circling his legs and face pressing in to his knees.

Tom was still on the other side and had jumped when his twin had slammed against it. He sat down on his side of the door, still pleading quietly for Bill to let him enter. Fingertips drawing patterns in the grooves of the wood, his temple resting against the cool door, he continued whispering for entrance. He stayed there for over an hour.

--

Bill woke up with a stiff back and sore muscles. He’d fallen asleep while sitting against the door, listening to his brother pleading to be forgiven and begging to enter their bedroom. Mind heavy with apologies from the two people he cared about most, confusion weighed down his heart. Forgiveness was easy in theory.

Standing, he stretched his arms over his head successfully cracking his spine and shoulders at the same time. He mentally reminded himself that sleeping while sitting against his bedroom door was not one of the more pleasant ways to get rest.

Reaching for the doorknob, he hesitated wondering if Tom was still on the other side. Deciding to take his chances, he opened the door and to his immense relief, Tom was not there. Bill poked his head through the doorway and glanced down both sides of the hallway, not seeing anyone. Stepping back in his room, he quickly grabbed a pair of sneakers and put them on while sitting on the edge of his bed. He didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary in this house.

Taking the stairs quicker than normal, he detoured to the kitchen and grabbed his cell phone from the table. Flipping it open, the screen showed he’d missed seven calls and thirty-two texts from Andi. Scrolling through the text messages, he grabbed an apple from a bowl on the table, and left the kitchen. Snatching his hoody from a rack near the door, he left the house and started walking. Where he was going he’d determine later. At the moment, he just wanted to leave the house.

Walking along the empty streets, shivering from the cold, he tossed the apple up and down in his right hand. Such a small fruit, only 77 calories. Eating it would take away the dizziness for awhile. It'd take away the slight headache and gentle rumbling in his belly. All of this he knew, yet, he couldn't bring the green piece of fruit to his lips. Instead, he threw the apple as far as he could manage into the field he was passing on his walk. A fleeting desire to go chase it crossed his mind causing him to shake his head. What was food when his life was in such disarray?

Kicking at a stone on the ground as he rounded a corner, Bill pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “Meet me at the cinema at seven?” Bill kept focusing on this one text. Could he trust Andi while they watched a film? Could he trust himself while they watched a film? He wasn’t sure, but he wanted to stay out as long as possible, and Andi was one of his only friends. The thought of going home and facing his brother, let alone his mother, gave him enough courage to accept Andi's offer. Opening his phone, he quickly texted back that he’d need a ride and to pick him up from their favourite bookshop, which he was currently nearest to, in forty-five minutes. Coffee sounded like the perfect distraction at the moment and he wanted to savour his latte alone in his peaceful nook inside the bookshop.

Andi’s immediate reply expressed a deep gratitude for finally receiving a response and an offer to pick Bill up now. Where was he? He'd meet him. Bill kept walking towards his newfound destination and informed Andi he was nearly to the shop, but Andi could join him if he really wanted to. Bill’s phone buzzed in his hand before he had a chance to close it. They'd be meeting at the shop for coffee.

Upon entering the small shop, the scent of parchment and coffee assaulted his senses, along with dust and age. The smell was intoxicating and he felt high from it. It reminded him vaguely of his special hiding spot in the attic at home. He hadn’t been here in so long.

First stop he needed to make was at the coffee section of the shop. Large, overly sweet and creamy. Something to warm him and soothe the pain inside. After the young clerk behind the counter handed him his coffee, he shrugged out of his hoody and tied it around his waist while his feet made their long familiar trek to the overstuffed lounge chair in the back of the shop. It was surrounded by shelving full of books on all four sides giving an illusion of privacy.

Sipping his coffee, he snuggled down into the chair to wait for his friend to show up. A few minutes passed and the soft jingling of bells to announce a new customer made Bill lift his eyes from the magazine he was perusing. Sure enough, Andi appeared past the wall of books, mild smiles hiding in his lips, hands buried deep in the pockets of his baggy jeans.

Bill stood in front of him and initiated a hug that gave Andi tingles and a wish to scoop Bill in his arms and never let him leave. Bill, on the other hand, felt prickles against his nerves, unsure if this was the right thing to do. Shivering, he pulled out of the hug and coughed in to his sleeve.

They took seats, Bill back in his fluffy chair, Andi on the arm of it. Andi started another apology and Bill held up his hand. He was tired. Tired of apologies and tired of thinking about anything. They would just agree to acting as if nothing had gone wrong between them. Nodding readily, Andi agreed and promised he'd do whatever it took to keep Bill from banishing him from his life again, if even for only one night.

Sitting together on the large chair, they both flipped through the magazine Bill had been reading prior to Andi's arrival. Scandals, babies, break-ups and other celebrity gossip covered every glossy page. Reading over Bill's shoulder, Andi was decidedly bored. The sigh he emitted caused Bill to glance up from the tabloids with raised eyebrows.

Andi offered to take them to a late lunch and Bill accepted, even though he had no intention of eating anything. Driving around for a good ten minutes or more, they ultimately decided on a restaurant they'd never been to before. It looked classy but not fancy, and Bill felt under dressed in his black track outfit. Especially when he compared himself to Andi in his street clothes: burgundy button-up, grey scarf, black jeans and black boots.

They were informed there was a wait time for a table; it'd be about an hour before they were seated, so the boys sat outside sharing a cigarette or two during their wait. The time seemed to drag, neither one knowing what to say to the other. The conversation was stale and repetitive; weather, music, books until it finally tapered off into the sound of cars passing and leaves scraping along the ground from the cold breeze. After what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence and half-hearted questions about things that didn’t really matter, the boys were seated at a table with a view overlooking a small pond that was behind the restaurant.

They both ordered salad and water to wash it down with. Although he'd never mentioned it during any of their conversations, Bill could tell that Andi suffered from at least one form of an eating disorder. While Bill just lacked appetite from more reasons that he could count, Andi purposely counted calories and restricted his food intake. The blonde wanted to be fit and slim, claiming it was for dancing and swimming, the two things he enjoyed above all else.

For once, Bill was thankful he was around someone who wouldn’t scrutinize what he wasn’t eating as he poked the lettuce around on his plate, not once taking in his mouth more than half a leaf of lettuce at a time. Each leaf trespassing his lips and sticking to his tongue sent his gag reflex into overdrive. After every bite, Bill would sip a drink of water, quickly swallowing and grimacing as the green vegetable slithered down his throat on a slick slide of water. The food landed in his gut bloating his tummy. Eating shouldn’t be this hard.


--

It was time for the film to start, some romantic comedy Andi had wanted to see, but Bill couldn’t remember what film they’d purchased tickets to, not that he really cared. The time he’d been spending away from his house had been nearly blissful, outside of all of the awkward conversation halts. No watchful eyes, no reprimands for not eating properly, and most importantly no questions. Maybe being with Andi was the escape he needed. Maybe this boy, who seemed to worship the ground Bill walked on, was sent to him for the purpose of helping erase the painful memories. Perhaps this boy could mend the broken pieces of Bill’s shattered soul. Maybe. Maybe not.

Bill smiled as he looked into Andi’s happy eyes. Maybe.

The lights dimmed and an arm tucked into place behind Bill’s neck. Settling down in to the crook of Andi’s arm, Bill was cold despite the thick hoody he was wearing. Pulling his knees to his chest, he folded himself carefully in the reclining seat and against his friend, trying to gain more warmth. He wasn’t sure he’d ever fully be warm, even if the temperature outside was one hundred degrees.

Taking this as an invitation, the blonde slipped his other hand on the top of Bill’s knee, smoothing his fingertips back and forth over the cotton track bottoms. Andi was never one to miss an open opportunity to gain something, or someone, he wanted. Unnoticing of the tension that exploded throughout his friend as he explored the hemline on Bill’s bottoms, Andi kept his fingers caressing long and longer lines up and down Bill’s thigh. Brushing ever so lightly along his friend’s limbs, his fingertips inched higher and higher into uncharted territory.

Sitting rigid in his seat, afraid to move, Bill allowed the petting to continue. Technically, Andi hadn’t done anything too invasive yet. The film progressed on and the sex scene they all knew was coming was just suddenly on the screen. Bill wasn’t sure when it had happened, but he could sense his friend becoming more aroused as the actors on the screen kissed and shed more clothing.

Gulping back anxiety and the taste of his salad from earlier, Bill let his legs drop to the floor in front of him quietly. A cramp had been building in the back of his thigh. Pausing for a moment while Bill readjusted his position, Andi waited until he was situated to resume his petting, fingers now having an unobstructed path up and down the long, lean thigh.

Bill couldn’t determine if he was aroused or sickened at his current behaviour in a public venue. His breathing was heavier and his body tingled everywhere he was touched. Was this what he wanted? The breath hitched in his throat as Andi’s fingers danced sneakily up his thigh and dipped between his legs while Bill’s thoughts were otherwise preoccupied. Involuntarily, he spread his legs with the touch and slouched in his chair, his eyes squeezing shut tight and the muscles of his body tensing. It’d been so long since he’d been touched, even by himself. With a hazy mind he twisted fingers around the front of Andi’s shirt.

Before the lips touched his, he knew Andi had shifted in his seat and was closing the distance between them. Dry lips met moist and Bill threw his arm around Andi’s neck, pulling him tighter and breaking the kiss at the same time. Andi’s now wet lips moved along Bill’s jaw and landed on his neck, sucking and biting while his hand squeezed and massaged between Bill’s legs. A tiny sigh was peeking out of Bill’s throat, but he clamped his lips shut holding it inside. He thought he was about to cry from pleasure, confusion, anger, and a slew of other emotions electrifying his body and pulsing through his veins.

Heaven.

Bill sighed as teeth nipped his soft flesh behind his ear. How’d Andi know that spot?

Hell.

The hands on his body were transforming into thicker fingers in Bill’s twisted thoughts. A wedding ring, blunt fingernails. He dug his fingers against his friends scalp pulling him closer still, his free hand gripping the armrest so tight his fingers ached.

Sick.

With a stifled moan, Bill used his free hand to twist his fingers around the wrist between his legs.

So good.

Hot breath in his ear, whispering to let go.

Wrong.

Bill squeezed his eyes shut so hard moisture crept out of his lashes as he tried to concentrate on the feelings of bliss his groin was sending through his body, but try as he might, it was impossible to get his mind cleared from the memory of what he’d been through. Arousal was fading with panic spreading to all of the warm spots Andi had coaxed awake.

Help.

It was becoming hard to breathe; his windpipe was blocked by confusion. His body needed this, his mind was screaming, his emotions were terrified and his soul was breaking apart.

Want.

But oh, how he wanted this with someone. How he longed to be touched and to touch back. He had wished for feeling ever since he’d discovered he was numb and cold. Always cold, always distant.

Tom.

Bill’s eyes snapped open and he shoved at Andi’s shoulders, disconnecting the boy’s mouth from his neck with a soft, wet pop. Disoriented and beyond turned on, Bill stood unsteadily and pushed past his friend stumbling up the walk and out the doors of the theatre they were in. Running through the halls, he burst through the front doors of the cinema and gulped in deep breaths of cool air. It burnt his lungs as he inhaled frantically. What was he doing?

He wanted to throw up, or continue the petting, the kissing, the closeness, but in a more private area. The breath leaving his lips was sending white tufts of fog into the air reminding him of cigarette smoke. Nicotine always helped him calm down. With shaking hands, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. His lips were trembling as he positioned one between them, cupping one hand around the tip and flicking a lighter to life with his other hand. Inhaling deeply, after lighting the nicotine stick, he felt his body begin to center, his nerves begin to recede. Then, his friend exited the building and the panic sparked inside him again.

“Bill....?” Andi reached out to touch Bill’s shoulder and Bill jerked away from the touch. He paced up and down the cracked sidewalk, cigarette coming to his lips every few seconds. Resting his back against the cinema wall, Andi watched his friend nervously pace one way, turn around, and follow the exact same steps back to where he had started from continuously. “Are you okay?”

Chuckling, Bill grabbed another cigarette from his pack, lighting it with the end of the one held between his lips. Thinking of Tom while being felt up was definitely not okay, but he couldn’t tell his best friend that. He couldn’t tell his friend anything and he wished in that moment he could tell him everything. Maybe he’d understand. Maybe he’d be sympathetic towards Bill’s plight. Or, maybe he’d be disgusted and leave Bill standing in the cold dark street alone as he sped away from him as quickly as he could. Shaking his head while puffing the on the cigarette, he choked out a garbled ‘fine’ and began counting the steps it took to get to the tree and back.

One...two...three...seven....fourteen....

Assuming Bill’s complex reaction was caused by their tryst inside the cinema, Andi ventured an apology for taking things too quickly, for pushing the boundaries of Bill’s sexuality. He didn’t mean to cause Bill anguish over questioning himself, Andi remembered what it was like to fight with yourself over an attraction to someone of the same sex. Promising to keep his libido in check, Andi pushed from the wall and blocked his friend’s way. He’d take Bill home if that’s what he wanted.

Is that what Bill wanted? Unsure of what he wanted, Bill agreed and the two strode quickly to Andi’s car. Once they were closed in the started car, Bill reached over and turned the car’s heater up as far as it would go, praying the icy cold air wouldn’t take long to warm up; he was shivering inside again.

Letting the car warm up, Andi turned and asked his friend, again, if he was okay. Bill smiled and nodded the affirmative; he’d survive. He blamed his sexual confusion right alongside the blonde for running out on the film and apologized for causing Andi to miss the ending. Andi laughed and explained he only wanted to see it because Bill had mentioned, during a commercial one day, that he’d like to see it. Bill nodded and tried in vain to remember the title of the film during the drive to his house.

--

The house was dark as Andi pulled in to the drive of Bill’s house and Bill wondered if Tom had ever returned. He was afraid Tom had left him for good. If he had, Bill wasn’t sure he’d be able to take it. Turning to Andi, Bill gifted a smile to his best friend. It would be fine. Everything would be okay. They exchanged a lingering hug with Bill pulling away first. He unhooked his seat belt and stepped out the car. He’d shovel the emotional bullshit he just dumped upon himself at another time. For right now the only thing on his mind was his bed. Sleep for an eternity was his goal.

Andi remained in the drive until he was sure Bill was safely inside his house. After shutting the door quietly, Bill leant against it heavily. He was drained, everything was drained out of him. Thinking surely he should just be able to melt into a puddle on the floor he moved his lead feet to the coat rack. Tom’s hoody wasn’t there, but maybe he’d taken a different one that he kept in their closet. Hanging the hoody on the rack, he dreaded having to go up the stairs to his room. He sighed, knowing it had to be done. If he slept on the couch, his mother would wake him before she left for work and ask why.

After hauling his heavy body up the stairs, half-walking and half-crawling, Bill was thankful his bedroom was only a couple more feet. His stomach dropped to his feet as he entered and found the room empty and in the same state he’d left it in. Biting back tears, Bill stripped as he walked toward their closet.

Pausing in front of the mirror on the back of it he examined his face. Mirrors were becoming an issue and, irrationally, he wanted to break every single one in the house. They were all lying to him, showing him a boy with black, haunted eyes. A boy with sliced thighs and scarred wrists. This hideous boy couldn’t possibly be real, could he? The dark circles were frightening and the bones poking out here and there were grotesque.

Bill’s mole was there, his thick eyebrows, dark hair. He stuck his tongue out and the tongue ring was there. Holding up his hands he moved in front of the mirror. Bill. Him. Bill. The face morphed into soft brown eyes, smooth skin, a mole on a cheek instead of a chin. A scar in an eyebrow. Bill stopped moving and watched the horrific transformation of himself in to his twin.

His nose touched the glass and he jumped back. When’d he reach the mirror? Searching the room for a trickster or hidden cameras, his arms dropped at his sides, back hunched, eyes wide. No one was there. Swallowing, he opened the closet and decided to stay away from the mirrors for a few days. They were starting to tease him.

Shifting from his own dresser to that of Tom’s, he sifted through oversized t-shirts in the top drawer. Nothing felt right against his skin. It was all itchy and he could feel welts forming on his back from the material. He noticed their dirty clothes hamper in the corner of the closet and padded over to it. Digging through a few shirts, he finally found the one he knew would be perfect. It’d be like cashmere cradling his tortured skin. Bill held the garment up to his nose and sniffed deeply, pressing his nose against the fabric. Tom.

He threw the shirt over his head and left the closet in only Tom’s big black t-shirt. The closet door wasn’t shut as he climbed into his twin’s bed. The mirror was laughing at him behind the open door. He could hear the cackle of the reflection and he covered his ears with the palms of his hands, burrowing down under the covers. More Tom.

What felt like hours passed and Bill watched the clock tick time by on Tom’s beside clock.

11....11:01....11:02....11:03.....

Tom should have been home already, but he wasn’t. The mirror laughed again, taunting.

11:03.....

Closing his eyes, Bill wordlessly wished to succumb to sleep.

11:11....

Wish granted.




-Jax-
Tags: andreas, angst, bill kaulitz, dark, david jost, drama, georg listing, gustav schafer, longfic, omc, sex lies & videotape, simone trumper, tokio hotel, tom kaulitz
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