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Captivation	By : Rina76 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Tokio Hotel Views: 6307 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Bill or Tom Kaulitz or any members of Tokio Hotel and this story is a complete work of fiction; it is all made up and not true. I am not making any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
A/N: Big thank you goes out to Luna and Fire Demon for their reviews! Your support means the world to me ^__^ Hope you enjoy this update in which closet fanboy keeps poking the twins... XD
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Chapter 10. Push.
I call to inform Bill and Tom of their daily meeting in the conference room. When I remotely open their door they emerge and go down the hall to where I am waiting, taking their regular seats opposite me across the table. After the preliminary greetings and offers of brewed coffee, I get down to business and make the boys watch some news reports, some older, some recent. They’re all about couples who met, fell in love and either got married or had kids together before finding out they were actually brother and sister. The reports come from the UK, Ireland, South Africa, Australia, India, USA – all over the place.
As explained by reporters in the news segments, these cases mostly happen because of strict adoption privacy laws, with genetic information not being freely available or true parental figures not being shown on birth certificates. It also happens because of failed relationships that resulted in parents deceiving their children about where they came from or who their real fathers were. Most of the siblings in these reports were adopted separately and were completely unaware that they even had a long-lost biological relative out there somewhere.
In one instance, there were nine children who were adopted out to nine different families in the same European province with none of them having any clue about any of the other siblings. They all grew up in the same local area within miles of each other so it was bound to happen that two of them would eventually meet and feel a strong, strange magnetism that they couldn’t explain. Perhaps they unconsciously recognised each other’s familiar scent. Blood knows its own blood. Whatever the reason, the young man and woman got together, were very much in love and planned to get married. This particular couple only discovered the truth about themselves when they searched into their respective backgrounds and traced their adoptive roots, the knowledge of their shared bloodline coming as a huge shock to them. Since they didn’t grow up together, they didn’t feel like brother and sister and never would but the paperwork said it was so.
And the law said their love was illegal.
Some of these couples stayed together anyway and were very happy. Some had to move away to another state or country to avoid ridicule. Some were charged with incest and had their perfectly normal children taken away from them. Some completely broke off their engagements or annulled their marriages when they found out they were related, most likely due to societal pressure, not because they didn’t love each other. Sadly, one of the couples was a pair of twins – a fraternal brother and sister. The similarities they shared in looks, temperament, interests and ideals provided an instant connection between them, a connection that they responded to wholeheartedly and with much passion. Until they discovered the truth. I don’t know how long they were married for but it seems so damn sad and unnecessary that they broke up because they found out they were each other’s twin. That should have been a cause for celebration but now, they don’t even speak to each other; their shame and guilt is so great. However, some of the couples stayed together and even told their families of their love. Some family members were accepting of the news, some weren’t. Some of the related lovers were outcast and disowned. That’s the risk of telling people, which is why most cases of Genetic Sexual Attraction remain hidden.

“These are just the ones we know about,” I say, turning off the television and facing Tom and Bill like they’re in sociology class and I’m their teacher. “There are many other occurrences just like these, happening in every country, in every part of the world, every single day. As you can see, Tom,” here I slant him a pointed look, “Genetic Sexual Attraction is real. It comes in many different forms: brother/sister, brother/brother, sister/sister, mother/son, father/daughter, cousin/cousin. And so on and so on. But I want to focus on the type of GSA that happens specifically between identical twins because I think it is the most natural and the most special and beautiful.”
“Fuck, here we go again,” Tom mutters while rolling his eyes, clearly anticipating one of my impassioned rants and not being in the mood for it. But too bad. He has to listen anyway.
Refilling my cup of coffee and adding sugar and milk, I sit down again, sipping on the sweetened beverage before resuming my lesson.
“GSA isn’t actually really about the sex; it’s about deep, close, intense bonding. In fact, some specialists are simply calling it Genetic Attraction. It’s becoming more and more common these days with children split up between divorced families, teen moms giving up their babies, IVF treatments and sperm donors. People want to know where they came from and will seek this information out. When they find someone who shares their blood and has a strong link to them, there’s a good chance that GSA will develop. Adoption agencies are well aware of this phenomenon and see it as a normal part of the reuniting process. Humans are instinctually attracted to other people who look like them and smell like them, whether they realise it or not. And who looks more like you than your own twin?”
I gaze between the faces of the two boys opposite me, a very clear example with their matching brown almond eyes, straight noses and sensually shaped mouths. One of those faces is looking at me, wanting to hear more. The other isn’t. Guess which is which.
“Twins are already bonded in a way nobody else can comprehend but when a sexual element is introduced, it’s like the ultimate physical and mental connection develops between the two and cannot be broken. It’s been described by some twins as the most incredible, spiritual, electrifying experience of their lives, better than any drug in the universe. They only feel whole and complete when they are making love, when they are inside each other. It’s almost like a religious ecstasy. I know exactly what they mean,” I say softly, thinking of the utter joy, completeness and unison I felt when I was in bed with Keiichi. It was as though we were back in the womb sharing the same placenta and the same blood, as though we’d die if we were separated. It was like we were one person, one heart, one soul. I still get shivers just remembering it.
“Even with that brother/sister twin couple who annulled their marriage and went separate ways, I can guarantee you that they regret it to this day and that they miss each other more than they ever thought possible. They may never get back together because of what society would think but I would wager you a million dollars that at night when they dream, they’re in each other’s arms again. Once that bond has formed, it’s there for life.”
Cradling his cardboard cup of coffee, Bill is listening intently, taking in and thinking about everything I’m saying, but Tom shows no interest whatsoever, staring at the table in dull-eyed tedium and twiddling his thumbs.
“GSA can happen to any twins, boys or girls, even ones that grow up together and already know they’re related. All it takes is that trigger. Sometimes the trigger is a stressful event, such as a divorce where the twins feel alone or neglected by their arguing parents and turn to each other for support and comfort. It could be a death in the family, a serious illness or some other traumatic incident. Sometimes there is no stress and the trigger is merely puberty, simply a flood of hormones that sets off the whole chain reaction. One minute a teenage pair of twins could be sitting on a couch watching a movie – the next they’re making out like it’s prom night. Sometimes it just happens but the feelings need to be there on both sides beforehand. As for what will end up triggering you guys…” I pause musingly. “Well, it’s not divorce. It’s not puberty. It’s not even the stress of fame. You’ve already been through all that and it hasn’t happened. I believe that what you need to set you off is what you’re looking at. It’s me. I’m your trigger.”
I lean back and see how they react to that.
Bill stares at me in confusion.
“Trigger, my ass,” is Tom’s muttered response, not believing that for a second.
“Why is that so hard to accept?” I ask him. “You saw the news reports. I bet you felt every single one of those overwhelming reunion emotions when you were allowed to see Bill again. Are you telling me you didn’t feel anything when you were apart? That you didn’t miss Bill like crazy?”
The only thing I get is sullen silence.
“Answer me, Tom,” I command. “Did you miss him?”
He refuses to reply, slouched there in his crooked baseball cap and baggy jeans like a delinquent high-schooler. I’ve been lenient on Tom the last couple of meetings, letting him sulk like a child and not answer my questions, but that stops today. I’ll teach him that refusal equals punishment.
“Give me your smokes.” I turn to Bill, expectantly holding out my hand. I know he has them as I saw him put them in his jacket pocket before coming here. He hesitates, not wanting to be without his precious nicotine sticks.
“I said, GIVE them to me!”
At my barked order, he hastily pulls them out and hands them over.
“Not answering me is not only very rude, but very unproductive and unhelpful,” I sternly lecture Tom. “Not just for me, but for both of you. You’re gonna sit here and think about that for a while.”
Without another word, I take their smokes with me, exit the room and leave them alone.
For three and a half hours.
“Well, this is lame,” Bill says for the fifth time, glaring at Tom. “Why didn’t you just answer him?”
“Because he’s a dick,” the older boy tosses back from his chair, both sneaker-clad feet up on the table like he owns it. “All he wants to talk about is that twincest crap. You really wanna talk about that, Bill? You really wanna hear what disgusting things he expects us to do together? Huh?”
Bill goes silent, looking away from Tom and sourly pursing his lips. I’m not sure if he’s actually disturbed by the idea of making love with his big brother, or if he is just a bit ticked off that Tom thinks it would be disgusting. In a way, it’s like Tom’s saying that Bill himself is disgusting, or that his body is not appealing.
They don’t talk much at all when I’m gone. While I watch them on my monitor, Bill hums to himself, distractedly wrapping sections of hair around his finger and searching for split ends. Restless with boredom, Tom tries to watch the TV but it’s not hooked up to an outside antenna and the only things he can play on it are the GSA reports, when he certainly doesn’t want to watch again. All they can do is drink coffee and they’re damn fortunate that I didn’t take that with me as well.
Eventually, as the caffeine filters through his system, Bill needs to pee and when he mentions this Tom casually tells him to do it in the sink.
“That’s gross, Tom.”
“What? It has a drain hole, doesn’t it? Just run the water after you go.”
“I’m not going in there. I’ll just wait.”
“You don’t know how long he’s gonna be or when he’s coming back,” Tom comments. “If you hold it too long, you might piss your pants. Or your kidneys might explode.”
Rather than stoop to such a low act, Bill crosses his legs determinedly. “I can wait.”
All the talk about peeing seems to have affected Tom too. “Fuck it, now I gotta go,” he grumbles, getting up and crossing to the sink. He lifts up the front of his shirt and pulls his fly down.
“Actually,” he contemplates as he spies the stainless steel coffee pot still sitting on the warmer. “I have a better idea…”
“Oh no, Tom! Don’t you DARE!” Bill gasps. “Koji will kill you!”
“He probably won’t even know.” Tom removes the pot and grins evilly as he brings it down to his groin. “It’ll serve the fucker right.”
“No, Tom, no…Oh God,” Bill groans in dismay as he hears the sound of liquid pouring into the half-full pot. Tom has his back to Bill as he does it, presumably so his little brother can’t look at his penis.
Looking a lot happier, Tom puts the now-fuller pot back onto the warming plate and zips up his pants. He cheerfully sits down. Bill is shaking his head in exasperation.
“Yuk. You could have at least washed your hands.”
That’s when I come back. The first thing I do is pour a new cup of coffee. It’s still hot. When I turn around Tom’s acting all nonchalant and indifferent but Bill’s face is priceless, showing a mixture of abject horror and revulsion. He really thinks I’m going to drink it.
“No, don’t!” He blurts as I lift the cup up to my lips.
I stop and frown at him. “Why not?”
“There’s…something in it.”
Peering into the cup, I can’t see anything. “What?”
He cringes. “Pee.”
I sniff it, then immediately scowl at Tom. “Did you piss in my coffee?”
“No,” Tom replies innocently.
Adopting a stony expression, I walk around to Tom’s side of the table and put the cup down in front of him, trying not to be sidetracked by his clean, masculine scent.
“Drink it.”
“Fuck you. I didn’t do anything!”
“Don’t bullshit me, Tom. I can smell it, you little punk.” I lean down with my palm on the table next to him in an intimidating manner, my ponytail almost touching his arm. “Drink this. Now. Or I will force it down your fucking throat.”
“He didn’t do it!” Bill leaps in, trying to protect his brother. “I did.”
Turning to him, I feign great shock. “Why, Bill? Why would you do something like that?”
“I was angry?” His answer sounds more like a question, as if he’s not sure I’ll believe him. Which I don’t.
“You’re covering for Tom,” I announce with displeasure. “He did this, didn’t he?”
“No,” Bill insists weakly, trembling under the sharpness of my amber stare but holding firm, protecting Tom at all costs. “It was me. I’m sorry!”
Letting him know that I don’t accept his story, I reply quietly, “You’re a good brother, Bill. But please don’t lie to me. That’s something I expect from Tom, not you.”
Then I dump the contaminated coffee in the sink. If I really wanted to punish the older twin, I would have dumped it onto his head but I’m not that mean. Besides, he just washed his dreadlocks and they smell really nice. All of him smells nice; his hair, his skin. If I wasn’t so busy acting the part of the cold-hearted kidnapper, I probably would have buried my nose into his neck and breathed in deep. Bill’s scent is bubble-gum sweet and youthful but Tom’s is all musky male, like sex in a bottle.
“Ready to talk yet?” Glancing to the more disobedient Kaulitz boy, I offer him a choice. “Or would you rather spend a few more hours in here?”
“Fine,” he grinds out tersely. “Just get this shit over with.”
“Awesome,” I respond with a bright smile, pulling up my chair and putting the coffee incident behind us.
Now that I know how he really feels about his baby brother (thanks to the night vision bathroom-cam), I’m going to push Tom hard today. I’m going to force him to say things and do things that he’ll find highly confronting and he’s gonna hate me for it. He might even break down emotionally and I have a box of tissues on the table, ready for that. I dislike seeing either of the twins crying. I don’t like upsetting them. But for the sake of progress it has to be done.
“Okay, let’s try this again, Tom.” I put my elbow on the tabletop, resting my cheek against the knuckles of my hand and focusing on the guitarist across from me. “Did you miss Bill when you were apart?”
“What do you think?” He snaps back. Still rude, but at least he’s replying.
“I think you did miss him. Very much. I think you should show him that.”
He frowns under the rim of his hat. “What are you talking about?”
“Show your brother how much you missed him.” In a casual tone, I suggest, “Give him a kiss.”
Tom freezes like I’ve just shone a very bright spotlight on him. Then the familiar rebellion, resentment and loathing starts to seep back into his face, darkening it and turning his eyes to hard black stones.
“Jam it up your ass, you sick psycho.”
“Tommy-boy,” I sigh patiently, “I’ve already shown how these sessions work. The more you defy me, the longer you’re stuck in here. You wanna spend the night sleeping in that chair? Because that’s exactly what will happen if you don’t start showing me some co-operation. I’ll leave you here with no cigarettes, no food, no pillows or blankets. You’ll be cold, hungry and uncomfortable. And so will Bill. But if you do what I ask then you both get to go back to your own room. You’ll get fed, be able to sleep in a comfy bed and have all the smokes you want. You’re happy, I’m happy, Bill’s happy – we’re all happy.”
I let that information sink in. Bill is worriedly glancing at Tom’s furious face, hoping his stubborn twin doesn’t do anything that might get them locked in here overnight.
“C’mon, Tom, work with me here,” I persuade compellingly. “I’m not asking you to cut your own finger off. I’m not asking you to hurt Bill in any way. It’s a simple, painless thing. Just kiss your brother on the cheek.”
Arms crossed defiantly over his chest, Tom exhales in noisy agitation, trying to glare me to death, but then the desire to leave this cold concrete cell becomes too much so he grits his teeth, toughens up, and grudgingly leans over to place a quick peck on the side of Bill’s face. Bill turns pink.
“There.” Tom scowls at me, slumping back in his chair. “Satisfied now?”
“Lovely,” I say in approval. “See, that wasn’t so difficult, was it? Now try one on the lips.”
He recoils in repugnance. “No!”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to.”
Knowing that he let Bill smooch him on the mouth this morning, I propose, “Surely you’ve kissed each other before.”
“Not like that! Not the way YOU want us to.” Sounding morally offended, Tom claims, “We’ve never done that and we never, ever will.”
Bill caught him off guard earlier, which is why he got away with the spontaneous kiss (and it happened when they were alone and sharing a tender moment) but now that I’m pressuring Tom to do it in front of me, he’s resisting with all his might.
“I know you’re uncomfortable with the idea of kissing another boy,” I say understandingly, “but Bill’s not a stranger. You know him. He’s your brother. Your best friend. Giving him affection should come naturally and easily for you. The more you do it, the more natural it feels, just like breathing. It shouldn’t be scary at all.”
“I’m not scared. I just don’t think it’s right. You shouldn’t make me do that to him.”
“Oh, he won’t mind. Will you, Bill?” I turn to the petite brunette. “You won’t care if Tom kisses you?”
Bill shrugs and shakes his head at the same time, the motion awkward but accepting. He’s embarrassed but at least he’s willing to try my suggestions. Unlike Tom, who’s sitting there with his lips firmly cemented together, putting them nowhere near Bill’s.
“Look. He’s got the same mouth as you,” I encourage Tom. “Think of it as kissing yourself. I know you’d do that if you could, among other things.”
He glances at Bill doubtfully, not buying that comparison. For starters, Bill doesn’t have a ring through his lip. And Tom doesn’t wear shiny pink gloss.
“It’ll make you so much closer, Tom. Trust me, I know. The first time Keiichi and I kissed, it was like…” I gather my thoughts, trying to transfer the indescribable feelings that still swirl inside me into words. “It was electric. It was like our hearts broke out of our chests and welded together, as though we were keeping each other alive. I want you guys to know what that closeness feels like, before it’s too late.”
Needing to underline the urgency of this life and how quickly it can pass by, I pose some of my more challenging questions to Tom. “What if one of you died tomorrow – what would you regret not doing? Not saying? Don’t you want to show Bill how much you care for him, while you still can? Don’t you want him to know how much he’s needed? Loved? Don’t you want to be closer to your little brother?”
By the conflicted look on his handsome face, Tom isn’t sure how to answer that. If he says no, he’ll hurt Bill’s fragile feelings. If he says yes, he’s admitting that he wants more from their relationship.
I know Bill wants more.
“Kiss him, Tom. Then I’ll let you both go back to your room.”
In a torn rasp, Tom answers, “I can’t, okay? I just… can’t.”
“Why can’t you? Isn’t he pretty enough for you?”
“No! I didn’t say –” Stopping, he knits his brows in bemusement. “Wait. Is this a trick question?”
“It’s no trick. I just asked you if you think Bill is pretty.”
“Oh, come on,” he objects. “Surely you don’t need me to answer that!”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, look at him.” Tom gestures to his more feminine brother, sitting there all demurely and shyly, hands folded in his lap like a polite little maiden. “He gets told that just about every damn day. Girls scream it at him on the street!”
“Yes, but have you ever told him that yourself?”
“I don’t have to.” Tom is drawling. “He’s well aware of it.”
“Bill, has Tom ever told you how pretty you are?”
When I focus back on him, the younger twin flushes and drops his eyes. “No.”
Picking up on his subtle signs of longing, I press, “Do you want him to tell you?”
He’s quiet for a few moments, gazing down at his fingernails and nervously scraping off chips of black polish.
“Yes,” he finally whispers, hiding behind his white-streaked hair and purposefully evading Tom’s indignant stare. Something tells me that Bill will be in big trouble for this later on.
“Well, I think Tom should remedy that,” I decree, shifting my glance to the other young man in the room. “Tom, tell him.”
“Why? Anyway, I already said this morning that he wasn’t ugly.”
“That’s not the same thing,” I chide. “Tell him that he’s pretty.”
“Oh God.” He nearly face-palms. “Do I have to?”
“Yes. You have to. Or you can’t leave.”
“But he already knows it,” the dreadlocked teen keeps insisting, pointing at his brother. “You should listen to him! He talks about how pretty he looks all the time.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe he wants you to agree with him? It’s not just girls who like getting compliments, Tom,” I remind him. “Think back to your school days. Remember how Bill was picked on and ridiculed for the way he looked and dressed and how he did his hair? People laughed at him for wearing makeup. They tried to make him feel like a freak. Maybe they succeeded. Now, I’m not a psychologist but I’m fairly certain that he craves praise to soothe the low self-esteem issues he has left over from childhood. He likes to be told that he’s attractive. It makes him feel special. Worthy. Valued. Important.”
Bill is staring at me, as though wondering how I know so much about him and his private feelings. I know because I was there. I was him, once. As a half-Asian boy with long hair and yellow eyes, I was the kid in the playground who used to feel ugly and strange and that I didn’t fit in. I’m over that now but I know exactly how Bill feels about his appearance, or used to feel.
“As much as Bill must enjoy receiving all those flattering comments from his fans, it would mean more coming from the one person who matters most in his life. It would mean more coming from you, Tom. Be kind to your little brother,” I recommend gently. “He’s been through a lot.”
When he thinks about nine year old Bill beginning to define his style and apply makeup, I can see Tom’s resistance draining, remembering the terrible teasing and taunting his sensitive sibling suffered through for his artistic expression and how it affected Tom as well, having to witness it.
“Fine, he’s pretty. All right?”
“Don’t tell me that. Tell HIM that. Bill needs to hear you say it.”
Tom swears under his breath at the mortifying thing I’m making him do but eventually he turns to Bill and mumbles it.
“You’re very pretty, Bill.”
Empathising with Tom’s excruciating embarrassment, Bill lightly lays his hand on his older brother’s forearm, letting him know that he appreciates what Tom has just admitted to. Tom shuts his eyes in humiliation but doesn’t shake Bill’s hand off.
“Even without the eyeliner and mascara?” I prompt Tom. “Be honest. Tell him what you really think. See, he’s not laughing at you. And neither am I.”
“I know but this is hard,” Tom admits in a mutter.
“I realise you’re not used to saying such things to your brother but he wants to hear them. Ignore me,” I suggest, as if they’re in a marriage counselling session and I’m the therapist. “Just turn around, look at him and tell him honestly what you think of his appearance. Say it in German if it’s easier for you.”
“Okay.” Tom sighs, facing his twin. “You look good with the makeup on but I still think you’re pretty enough without it.”
“Really?” Bill asks with big, shiny expectant eyes.
“Yeah. I don’t even recognise you sometimes when you’re all made up. It doesn’t look like you.”
“When do I look like me?”
“Every other time. Like, in the morning when you first wake up and your hair is all over the place. I always say that you look like shit but you actually don’t.”
“Then why do you say that to me?”
“I dunno.” Tom half-blushes, half-shrugs. “Because it’s cute when you’re cross.”
Bill begins to smile, as if he’s waited his whole life for Tom to say that. “You really think I’m cute?”
“Of course. Little brothers are supposed to be.” Starting to open up on the subject, Tom gazes at his younger sibling with a softening expression, speaking in their native language simply because it’s easier for Tom to express his feelings that way.
“You still look cute when you’re grumpy, or tired or sick. You were cute even when you had that stupid short haircut with the long fringe. And before you got your teeth fixed. I didn’t think you needed to do that, Bill. I never noticed that they were crooked. To me, you’ve always had the best smile in the world. Seeing you smiling makes me happy.”
“Aw, Tomi. Thank you.” Bill gratefully squeezes his brother’s arm. “That’s the second nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Tom looks at him in curiosity. “What’s the first?”
“Remember when it was our birthday a year or two ago? We were having a party and you said, in front of everyone, that the greatest gift you’d ever received came into the world ten minutes after you did.”
The moment Bill was born.
“That made me cry, Tom.” Indeed, even as he speaks of it now, tears well up in Bill’s cocoa-brown eyes.
“I meant it,” Tom returns in a barely-audible mumble, not used to being so sentimental.
“I know you did.”
On impulse, Bill leans over and hugs his twin, sniffling into his strong shoulder. Tom turns his head and presses his cheek into Bill’s hair, his arm slipping around Bill and holding him tenderly, both of them closing their eyes and forgetting that I’m even there. I let them hold each other for a minute before I interrupt them.
“Good boys,” I praise with soft pride. “You’ve made phenomenal progress today. I’m very, very proud of you both.”
They quickly separate, looking self-conscious that I witnessed their intimate moment of closeness.
“Don’t ever be ashamed of showing your feelings. Most people search their whole lives for a love like you two have and never find it. You’re blessed,” I tell them in that same gentle tone. “Embrace your emotions, don’t fight them. Let them out and be truthful with each other. Total emotional honesty - that was your real lesson for the day.”
I get up and unlock the door. “Now, you can go.”
“What, already?” Tom blinks at me in surprise. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. Get lost before I change my mind,” I advise, throwing their packet of smokes back at him. “Go.”
They scurry off down the corridor, having been stuck in that bleak, grey enclosure for most of the day already. It’s not so much a conference room as a stark, severe interrogation cell and it’s not a pleasant place to be for lengthy periods of time.
Back in the comfort of their own room, Bill runs off to pee, leaving the bathroom door open in his haste. He moans as the pressure is noisily drained from his bladder, not caring if Tom can hear. The older teen shuts the main steel door behind them and sighs with relief, plopping onto the couch and removing his cap to scratch at itchy dreads. “Fuck. What a long, shitty day.”
“That’s mostly your fault,” Bill reminds him from the bathroom as he’s still peeing. “You’re the one who wouldn’t co-operate.”
“I was making a point.”
“Pissing in his coffee was a great point to make, Tom. That really showed him,” Bill drawls in unimpressed sarcasm, flushing the loo and washing his hands in the sink. Coming out and wiping his palms on the back of his jeans he adds, “You’re damn lucky he didn’t make you drink it.”
Tom grunts, lighting up a smoke held between his compressed lips. “You’re lucky he didn’t force me to tongue-kiss you.”
With a slight pout, Bill sits next to him. “I actually thought he was going to.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have done it anyway. That would have been too horrible.”
“Yeah. Totally.”
Of course Bill’s lying. But Tom can’t tell that. Because he’s an idiot.
“Oh, by the way, Bill. I got something for you.” Tom leans over and punches Bill on the upper arm, hard.
“Ow!” Rubbing his arm, Bill glares at his more aggressive brother and complains, “Tom, that hurt!”
“Good. That’s what you deserve.”
“Why?”
“For making me say all that sappy shit in front of Cujo.”
The younger male starts to sulk. “So, you didn’t mean any of it.”
“Actually, I did. But if you just wanted me to tell you how pretty and cute you look, you could have said so. In private,” Tom scolds. “Do you have any idea how fucking humiliating that was for me? Saying that in front of him?”
“Sorry,” Bill eventually mumbles.
“You should be.” Tom forgivingly reaches over and messes up Bill’s hair. “Just don’t do it again, you ugly little shithead.”
Bill just grins and steals Tom’s lit cigarette.
.........
A/N: I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, people! Btw, the GSA reports that Koji mentioned are freely available on the internet if you wanna search for them. They're really quite interesting, although you may not agree with all of the pairings. This story/interview about a teenage brother/sister twin couple in love with each other is beautiful and fascinating and I'd highly recommend you read it so you get an idea of how Koji feels:
http://marriage-equality.blogspot.com/2011/10/lifelong-couple-denied-right-to-marry.html
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Captivation