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Improvisation	By : Rina76 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Tokio Hotel Views: 1723 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Georg Listing, Tom Kaulitz, Bill Kaulitz or any members of Tokio Hotel. This story is a complete work of fiction and not true. I don't own this fandom am not making any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Imagine Georg’s surprise when he finds a paper flyer lying on the floor-mat of his truck, behind the passenger seat, advertising Tom’s band. They’re performing that very night. The teenager must have slipped it in through a crack in the rear window before he left for New York. Georg knew they had a gig coming up because Tom told him so, and even said he’d take Georg along, but that was before the big argument. Georg doesn’t know why Tom gave him the flyer since the kid basically hates him right now for sleeping with Ria, but it seems like a message, one that he shouldn’t ignore. The band is playing in a pub only forty five minutes’ drive away from where Georg is staying with Ernie (at a friend’s place) and he decides to go to the show alone, for curiosity’s sake, purely to see Tom on stage being a musician instead of an actor. Georg probably won’t talk to the boy, just lurk in the back of the crowd like a love-stuck loser, pining over what he can’t have.

And that’s what he does, the older man leaning against the corner of a brick interior wall in the smoke-filled pub, holding a cigarette and a bottle of beer. He’s watching the stage, empty save for a drum kit, a bass guitar, a normal electric guitar, a microphone on a stand and speakers. He’s wearing a loose knitted cap, one that covers his hair, his ears and the back of his neck, in an effort to remain relatively invisible. He can’t do much about his face but it’s pretty dark where he’s standing so he’s confident nobody will see him there, or if they do, they won’t recognize him, merely seeing him as an anonymous figure in the corner. A small crowd is milling about in front of him, also waiting for the band. He straightens when people start filing onto the stage; some short-haired guy gets behind the drums and another long-haired one grabs the bass. His pulse increases when Tom strides in and picks up his guitar, dressed in his usual baggy jeans, cap and T-shirt, shortly followed by Billinda.

No baggy jeans for her, no ma’am. The tall brunette female is encased in something like a leather tuxedo with silver studs and diamantes all over it, making her sparkle under the stage lights and taking all the focus away from her plainer-dressed bandmates. Her boots are knee-high and the soles are thick, making her appear even taller. Her eyes have been made up smoky and dark and her raven hair is styled in an impressive Mohawk. Altogether, the effect is, for lack of a better word, stunning.

“Hello, everyone. It’s great to be here,” Bill greets the crowd, smiling and adjusting the microphone stand with fingers laden with jewelled rings, her nails painted black. “Are you ready to rock?”

Given cheers of support by the audience, Bill repeats in a stronger tone, “I said: are you ready to ROCK?” Expecting a better response, she holds the mic out to the crowd and they cheer with more volume. She nods to Tom and he glances down and begins to play. The guitar sounds that rip into the room from the huge speakers sitting either side of Bill are instantly recognizable to the crowd and they roar in approval, clapping and yelling. This is clearly a fan favourite. Driven by the applause, Bill grins and shimmies her shoulders, much to the enjoyment of the energized mob in front of the stage. Her words amplified by the sound system, she clutches the microphone and delivers the first set of lines as the bass kicks in.

“We were running through the town... Our senses have been drowned... No place we haven't been before...”

Her voice is low, breathy and husky. She sways to the tune. The melody changes, slows momentarily; guitars and drums die down. Bill stills. She takes the microphone off the stand and holds it close to her glossy pink mouth, voice softening, shadowed eyelids lowering. In a near-whisper, she sings, “Too young to live a lie... Look into my eyes...”

Drums crash back in and the tempo increases. Bill’s lashes flick back up and she enthusiastically belts out the chorus.

“Ready, set, go, it's time to run! The sky is changing, we are one,” she howls into the mic, perfect teeth shining white, tongue-stud showing through her open mouth.

Immersed in his playing, Tom barely glances up from his guitar and when he does, he only looks at Bill, not at girls in the crowd. Georg thought Tom would be hamming it up on stage like a true rock star but he seems strangely subdued, concentrating on the music he’s creating with his fingers and letting his instrument speak for him.

Bill, however, is totally hamming it up and loving the attention. She’s a natural entertainer and is plainly having a ball, dancing and jumping up and down in time to the thumping beat, thick chain necklaces bouncing on her flat chest. She entices the audience with inviting gestures, often holding the mic out so they can sing along, cupping her ear if they’re not loud enough. Standing with legs spread apart, Bill boldly makes visual contact with the crowd, her dark gaze sultry and intimate, as though she’s seducing them. Sometimes she closes her eyes as she’s singing, sometimes she gazes at Tom or touches his arm as she goes past, and sometimes she even turns and smiles at the bass player and drummer, as if making sure they’re not forgotten about even though she’s clearly the star.

As she’s singing, the leather-clad vocalist struts up and down the length of the stage, her long legs restlessly moving, never staying stationary. When she’s swaying her slender hips from side to side, staring up through her thick eyelashes or sliding her hand down the microphone stand, she’s not always aware of her motions. They are unwitting signals of seduction that she doesn’t think about, just does, her sensuality let loose for all to see. There are equal amounts of men and women gazing at Bill, enthralled by her androgynous looks. Though she is very feminine in appearance, there are some very strong, manly traits to her as well, which only add to her mystique and appeal.

Apart from that one song Tom played for him, Georg hasn’t heard any other tracks from the band but the more he hears, the more he likes the music. Some songs, like the first one, are power-anthems and others are sad ballads. But it’s all rock, maybe a bit electro, a bit pop, but quite listenable and enjoyable. Bill varies the way she sings throughout the show, depending on the song and its lyrics. Some parts she murmurs, some she moans or gasps and some she screams, tendons standing out in her pale neck and lips stretched thin from the formation of the high notes. Her voice isn’t flawless but it doesn’t matter – her spectacular stage presence makes up for it in spades.

For the first half of the show, Tom is restrained, staying subdued and allowing his gorgeous girlfriend to have the spotlight. But, during the guitar solo of one particular song, he decides it’s his time to shine and this is when he earns the complete adulation of the audience. He changes from background band member to sexy lead guitarist in the blink of an eye. He moves to the front of the stage. His hands caress his guitar, his pelvis pushing against the wooden instrument as if he’s fucking it. His expression changes from downward-facing and intently focused to something Georg can only describe as an orgasm-face, Tom’s head tipping back, his eyes closing and mouth falling open, much like how he looks when he comes. It’s disturbingly arousing. Tom starts responding to Bill, smirking saucily at her when she comes near him, as if he’s thinking extremely dirty thoughts. He even responds to the lonely bass player, Tom going up to the other nameless dude and playing right in front of him, the two guys leaning in close together and thrusting their hips and instruments at each other in a distinctly homoerotic way which thrills Georg to see, probably because he’s the only person in this room who knows from personal experience how much Tom enjoys homoerotic encounters.

From his discreet vantage point, the older man is watching his co-star’s act with appreciation, except it doesn’t seem like an act. It’s like Tom is just doing what comes naturally. He’s completely at home with a guitar in his hands, just as he is with a camera in his face. Only here, he has more fans, Tom bathing in the screaming of the animated horde of girls flocking before him. With long blond locks framing his fine features, lithe body moving to the beat and hands flying about furiously over the strings, he’s channelling all the mighty guitar gods in history, yet somehow managing to stand out on his own as an individual. He crouches down near the edge of the stage, playing directly to a few entranced ladies in the front row who are being sucked in by his captivating allure, their gazes fixated on Tom’s sweat-sheened face, his pierced lips parted sensually as if he’s in the middle of some seriously hot lovemaking.

If Bill was the insecure type, she would be jealous of Tom flirting with these women but she evidently knows that the blond boy will be going home with her at the end of the night. She knows that Tom belongs to her and that what he’s doing is part of performing. Dazed by Tom’s hypnotically sexual aura, the girls reach up to try and touch him, squealing at each other in excitement, while a large proportion of the guys in the crowd wish they were half as charismatic and good-looking as Tom and could hook chicks that easily. Most of those guys probably don’t even know who Tom is (and are only here because their girlfriends dragged them along) but they would know that the guitarist has that ‘it’ factor, that X factor, that elusive and appealing element that sets him apart from other men and makes him a star in a room full of people who are unfamiliar with his face. It’s the very same factor that will one day make him a celebrity.

The sound of Bill’s voice draws Georg’s gaze back to her, the stylish young woman singing to the audience, her vocals loaded with feeling and power, the meaning of the lyrics coming through with clarity thanks to her passionate projection. Sweeping her nearly-black gaze over the mass of humanity, she finds Georg and points straight to him while sending the green-eyed man an intimately scorching look over the microphone. Georg quickly glances over his shoulder, sure she must be pointing at someone else but no, he’s the only one in the corner and her eyes are definitely focused on him. She grins and wiggles her fingers at Georg, as if pleased to see him there. Being singled out like that, Georg’s heart does a backflip and his cheeks flush, as if he is a star-struck fan, though he hardly knows Bill at all and is certainly no groupie. He isn’t sure if he should wave back at her or something but he’s saved from making that decision because Bill turns back to her long-haired boyfriend, singing to Tom.

Well, crap, thinks Georg with a sinking feeling. So much for staying anonymous. At least Tom hasn’t spotted him yet. If he had, the kid wouldn’t be looking anywhere near as happy as does at the moment. It’s clear that Tom loves entertaining, he loves music and he loves performing with Bill. The two of them bounce off each other’s energy and feed their creative fires. Not only that but they look damn good together. Theirs is truly a partnership made in heaven.

The gig finally winds up and Bill delivers the last two lines of the closing song with deep emotion, dark brows pulled together with intensity, gripping the microphone with both manicured hands.

“And if all that can’t hold you back... I’ll jump for you...”

With a final quavering guitar string, the track ends. Tom falls dramatically to his knees, head bowing, and the crowd goes nuts. Bill stands there panting and grinning, costume glittering in the hot lights and eye makeup running on one side from sweat, looking like a black tear down her cheek. Yells, screams and wolf-whistles fill the room along with the thunder of claps from many hands. Two of those hands belong to Georg. He didn’t expect to have a good time tonight but he did. Georg absolutely loved the show. This is the first chance he has had to see Tom rocking out in front of an audience and he was magnificent. Despite whatever personal problems he may be going through, the kid handled this gig like a total professional. In Georg’s opinion, Tom was born to be a rock idol. And so was Bill. If he wasn’t already in love with Tom, Georg would have been more than a little infatuated with Billinda after witnessing her limitless sexuality and magnetism. She’s fucking remarkable.

Bill lifts her face, smiling shyly at the ardent ovation.

“Thank you guys so much,” she says modestly, microphone still in her fingers. “Thank you!”

The rest of the band starts putting down their instruments and crossing over to each other, laughing and exchanging friendly banter while wiping their sweaty faces, no doubt keen for a beer or two at the bar after that perspiration-soaked performance. Before he gets spotted by a certain someone, Georg slips through the crowd and exits the pub. Outside in the parking lot, he lights a smoke and starts to head back to where he left his truck when he hears his name being called. He turns around to find Bill hurrying over to him, much to his alarm. She has wiped that mascara-trail off her cheek and applied fresh lip-gloss by the look of it. She smells like perfume but not flowery girls’ perfume – more like she borrowed Tom’s cologne, the masculine fragrance mingling with her naturally sweeter scent.

“Hi, there! I saw you lurking all the way up the back.” She smiles teasingly at Georg. “You can’t hide from me; I got eyes like an owl.”

“Hey, Bill,” he replies apologetically. “Sorry I can’t stay and hang with you guys but...” He desperately tries to think of an excuse.

“You and Tom are fighting. I know.” At Georg’s astonished face, she adds, “He won’t tell me what happened but knowing Tom, I’m betting it’s because of something stupid he did.”

“No, actually.” Georg shakes his head. “It was something stupid that I did.”

Bill frowns. “Does it have anything to do with the dude you two beat up outside the karaoke bar?”

“That dude beat US up, believe me. We were lucky to escape alive. And no, it’s not because of that. Although, it WAS pretty stupid, going into that bar with your drunken boyfriend,” Georg admits.

“Well, whatever it was you did, I’m sure he’ll forgive you eventually. I know how much Tom likes you, Georg.”

Again, Georg looks to her in astonishment.

“He’s acting like a big fucking girl,” Bill says with a dry smile. “The fact that Tom’s so pissed off over whatever happened just indicates to me how much you mean to him. Trust me, he never sulks over any of his other guy friends like this.”

Georg doesn’t know what to say to that. Is she hinting that she knows about them and their secret affair? Or is she just making an innocent observation?

“Anyway, thanks for coming to the show.” Bill’s darkly-shaded eyes look to him hopefully. “What did you think? How bad did we suck?”

That’s almost exactly what Tom said to Georg once, when the kid played his original song for the first time. That they both have insecurities about their music yet badly want praise and recognition for it proves that Bill and Tom really are like twins.

“The show was great. You were great,” Georg reassures her. Bill was much, much more than that but he’s unable to say it in front of her. Knowing that girls like compliments about their appearance, he adds, “I like your outfit. Very sparkly.”

She grins delightedly, tugging at her jacket lapels. “Thank you. I made it myself.”

“I figured. Tom mentioned you were a costume designer.”

“Yeah.” She sighs wistfully. “I’d like to do more with our band but my day job pays the rent.”

“Your music is awesome, by the way. You and Tom write all your own songs, right?”

“We do,” she answers proudly. “Sometimes I write my own or he writes his own but we always finish our pieces together.”

He nods in admiration. “You two work very well as a team.”

“Thanks. So do you and Tom. I loved watching you guys working together on the set. You’ve got such amazing chemistry,” Bill gushes. “I can’t wait to see this movie. I know it’s gonna be incredible.”

“I hope so.” Georg shrugs. “I guess the opening day takings will tell, huh?”

She lightly hits his arm. “Oh, come on. No movie you’ve ever been in has flopped.”

Sceptically, he says, “You’ve seen them all, have you?”

“I have, actually.” She smiles at Georg. “Even if the movie is bad, you being in it makes it good.”

He blinks at the bold comment. Is she hitting on him or something? If so, what the fuck does he do?

Reluctantly, Bill glances at the pub behind them and the raucous noise coming from inside it. “I should get back or Tom will be wondering where I disappeared to. Do you want me to say hi to him for you?”

Also glancing at the pub’s rear exit, Georg asks worriedly, “Does he know I was here?”

“He will when I tell him you were. Oh. Unless you prefer me not to say anything?” Bill ends questioningly, to show that she cares and doesn’t want to cause any more trouble between Tom and Georg.

“No, it’s okay. He left me a flyer so I guess he wanted me to come.” Georg’s lips twist wryly. “Tell him that he was terrible and that he sucked. Tell him he should stick to acting.”

Bill laughs, knowing that Georg is only kidding. “Tom will appreciative you being here, even though he won’t admit it out loud.” Squeezing the older man’s hand in a friendly manner, she says gratefully, “Thanks again for coming to our gig, Georg. It’s very sweet of you.”

Her hand is warm and soft and Georg is almost disappointed when she removes it. “No problem. I’m glad I came to check you out.”

Billinda’s pierced eyebrow lifts in curious amusement.

“Check out your band, I mean! Not you specifically, Bill, although you are definitely worth checking out. As a singer!” Georg rapidly amends, trying not to look like an idiot and failing. He facepalms. “Oh, God. Sorry. I’ll shut up now.”

Bill is smiling, not minding Georg’s awkwardness in the least. She must be used to that, guys being all flustered around her. Georg wouldn’t act that way if she wasn’t so damn beautiful. And tall. And hot. And how the hell does her Mohawk stay up like that?

With a saucy wink, Bill says flirtatiously, “See you again soon, Mr. Listing,” and then the dark-eyed sparkling creature turns around and saunters back the way she came, Georg wondering how she even walks in those platform heels of hers and whether Tom would be annoyed at him for looking at Bill’s ass.

Thinking about Tom sobers Georg’s mood once more and he flicks his used cigarette butt onto the ground, going back to his truck and driving away before his angry co-star comes out and punches him.
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Improvisation