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Improvisation	By : Rina76 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Tokio Hotel Views: 1721 -:- 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
- 24
- 25
- 26
Georg slips his arms into a light green cotton shirt, smiling as he wonders how long that shirt will stay on once he’s alone with Tom in his co-star’s trailer. He tidies his hair with his fingers while looking at his reflection, steam from the shower still clinging to the edges of the bathroom mirror. He can’t erase the smile from his face as he thinks back to the night before, how Tom made love to him, sweetly and tenderly. It had been the most magical, beautiful experience of his life and all day he had a contented glow in his stomach, like a slow-burning candle that warmed him from the inside out. He had wanted to spend some private time with his young lover today to give him some adoring hugs and kisses but Gustav had kept them both on a separate schedule. If one of them was in front of the camera, the other was holed up in his trailer until called to the set.

Even when they were both in the studio sitting around waiting, Tom didn’t really talk much to Georg, instead curling up in his chair and sleeping. Georg couldn’t blame the kid; he was tired too. And slightly sore. Not just between his legs - his thigh muscles and abdominal muscles ached too. While they started off slowly, their lovemaking had been frenetic towards the end and it’s little wonder they were both weary today. But work is over and they have had time to nap, eat and shower so hopefully Tom has gotten his energy levels back up again. Georg certainly has. He’s humming a tune as he strolls around his trailer with a spring in his step, collecting his keys and throwing a few condoms into his wallet for just in case.

Tom surprises him that night by showing up there first.

“Howdy, stranger,” Georg greets him with a grin, opening the door so Tom can come out of the cool night air and into the coziness of the trailer. “I was just about to come over.”

“Well, don’t bother,” Tom returns curtly, dodging Georg’s kiss, making the older actor blink and turn to peer at him in puzzlement. The younger male is shabbily dressed, as if he threw on dirty clothes that had been lying on the floor, his hair is stringy and uncombed and he hasn’t shaved. Georg doesn’t think he’s even had a shower since work ended. Peering closer, Georg can see that there are purplish shadows under Tom’s eyes and the bones of his face appear somehow more prominent, as if his skin is too tight. It’s strange; he looks almost haggard. He looks much older and wearier than his eighteen years of age. That is unusual in itself but it’s not the way Tom looks that’s attracting Georg’s attention. It’s his body language. He’s walking around the living area, picking up various items and putting them down again, his eyes wandering, looking at everything except for Georg. He is acting odd. Uncomfortable and fidgety, as if he doesn’t want to be there.

Georg asks with a small frown, “Is everything all right?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Tom replies distractedly, going up to a vase of flowers on the kitchen bench and smelling the blooms. He idly starts plucking the petals off a daisy, letting them drop to the floor, avoiding Georg’s bemused gaze.

“Tom, is there something you want to talk about?”

In a nonchalant tone, as if he’s stating the weather for the evening, the second actor remarks, “Billinda will be here tonight.”

“Oh,” Georg answers, presuming that this is why Tom’s being all weird. “Can’t you tell her not to come, that you’re busy with work or something?”

“She’s already on her way.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, thanks for warning me this time. We can catch up tomorrow, then.”

“No, we can’t,” Tom flatly states.

That frown wrinkles Georg’s brow again. “Why not?”

“She’s staying for a few days.”

“I see.” Georg digests this, wondering why Tom didn’t just tell her to turn the car around and go home, rather than waste her time coming here. She won’t want to stay once she hears what Tom has to say, like how he’s been seeing other guys on the side. How he’s been seeing Georg, especially.

“So, anyway,” Tom says flippantly, pulling a red rose out of the flower arrangement. “Thanks for everything but it’s over now.”

Georg’s frown deepens. “What do you mean over?”

Sniffing the rose, the younger one replies, “I mean, I’m breaking up with you.”

“What?”

“Are you deaf?” Tom drawls sarcastically. “I said: I’m breaking up with you.”

Georg gapes at him. Bewilderedly, he queries, “But what about last night, Tom?”

“What about it?”

Trying not to get too frustrated, Georg stresses, “You made love to me.”

“We had sex.” Tom shoots him an amused look, twirling the rose-stem in his fingers. “Don’t tell me you took it seriously.”

Confusion fills Georg, making him feel off-centre. “But you said you were going to tell Bill about us.”

Tom laughs tauntingly. “You got a lot to learn about men, G. We’ll say anything for a good fuck.”

“A good...” Outraged, Georg can’t even repeat it. “Was that all it was to you?” His voice rises in indignation. “A good fuck?”

Sneeringly, Tom retorts, “What, you thought it was something more?”

“Yes, actually. I did.” Georg is speaking through gritted teeth. “And you did too.”

“No, Georg. That’s your problem. You’re too romantic,” Tom jeers, tapping Georg on the nose with the flower, allowing him a whiff of perfume. “You make everything more than what it really is. You see everything through rose-coloured glasses. The first bit of cock you get and you've practically got us married. Wake up, man. I was just taking pity on you by popping your cherry. It was just sex to me. It didn’t mean anything.”

Unable to believe his ears, Georg keeps staring at the other male, his brow furrowed in perplexity. Where is the caring, tender lover of last night? Where is the sweet, sensitive boy that he loves? Who is this stony, cold-hearted stranger? What happened between last night and now that has caused this sudden and baffling transformation?

Georg tilts his head sceptically and demands, “What’s going on, Tom? Why are you acting like this?”

“Because I’m bored of you, that’s why. Now that we’ve fucked, there’s nothing left for us to do,” Tom says cruelly, flinging the rose onto the floor and crushing it beneath his sneaker as if it’s Georg’s heart. The boy shrugs. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised. Surely you must have known this was going to happen sooner or later. You said it yourself: This was a dead end street from the start. It wasn’t going anywhere.”

Hands planted on his hips, Georg shakes his head. “I don’t believe that.”

Tom yawns, as if the conversation is uninteresting to him. “Yeah, well, believe whatever you want to believe, okay? I’m still dumping you.”

Georg’s eyes narrow as his brain leaps to the most logical explanation. “You’re scared,” he deduces. “That’s why you’re behaving this way.”

Tom scoffs and tosses his hair arrogantly. “Why would I be scared of you?”

“You’re not scared of me. You’re scared of what’s between us,” Georg reasons, knowing with great certainty that he’s guessed correctly. He nods as he delivers the final conclusion. “You’re scared of being in love.”

“Oh Christ,” Tom groans, rolling his eyes. “There you go with the sappy shit again. Hate to spoil your illusions, Georg, but you and me were nothing more than fuck buddies.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” Georg argues. “I know you care for me.”

Sighing, Tom looks at the curtained window as if he’d rather be outside with the fluttering, stinging bugs and moths than in here dealing with this tediousness. “How many times do you gotta be told? I’m dumping you. Do you want me to tattoo it on my forehead?”

Undaunted by the scathing reply, Georg crooks his finger at Tom, ordering, “Come over here and stop avoiding me.”

Georg gets a daggered glower. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes, you are,” Georg rebounds, pointing at him. “You’re all the way over there.”

“Well, that’s because I don’t like you anymore,” Tom growls vindictively. “Being near you makes my skin crawl.”

“See, that right there? That’s avoidance,” the older actor interjects harshly. “You’ve hardly been able to look at me since you walked in the door. Face me like a man, Tom. Tell me honestly that last night meant nothing to you and that I mean nothing to you. Come over here, look me right in the eye and say that.” He stares at Tom, daring him to take up the challenge. Tom matches the stare, fiery rebellion lighting his gaze, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

“Come on, Tom. What are you waiting for? Say it.”

Eventually, Tom scowls and drops his eyes, kicking at the squashed rose on the carpet, grinding it further into the fibres. “I don’t have to say shit to you, Georg. You’re not my boyfriend. You never were.”

“Coward,” Georg says disgustedly, a critical look of condemnation and disappointment aimed at his co-star. “Go on, then. Run. Run away from me. From us. Run away like the gutless little coward that you are.”

The accusation pierces through a chink in Tom’s armour, his face crumpling slightly, as if he’s been jabbed in a sore spot. Seeing a hint of the real Tom under that distant façade, a hint that the boy is not as unfeeling as he appears, Georg’s anger starts to thaw. The heartless bastard act is just a front. Tom’s covering up his real emotions by putting up a wall of ice, the way he always does. Georg doesn’t know why Tom is doing this, especially after the love they made the night before. The magic and the wonder of their hearts and bodies joining for the first time, merging into one, was something sacred and special and Georg knows Tom felt that way too. Georg doesn’t know why today things have changed but it seems that the kid is quite upset about something. And he doesn’t want Georg to see how much. The fact that he’s so upset concerns the older man and overrides his own frustration.

“Tom, what’s the matter? Are you worried about telling Billinda the truth? Is that it?”

“I’m not breaking up with Bill!” Tom explodes, slamming his hand on the wall, the blow reverberating throughout the whole trailer. “I’m breaking up with YOU, Listing. Just fucking accept it.”

Georg sighs. He’s heard all this before. “Are you really, truly serious about it this time?” he questions probingly.

“Yes,” the younger male grates out in annoyance. “I’m sure. Okay?”

“You’re not just freaking out because she’s coming here?”

“It’s not that. I’m not some pussy-whipped moron who’s afraid of his girlfriend,” Tom snaps. “I’d be doing this even if she wasn’t coming here tonight. It’s what I want.”

“Because if you’re just scared of rushing into a commitment with me, we can take it slowly,” Georg suggests. “We can-”

“Enough,” Tom barks, slicing his hand in the air. “You’re not listening, Georg. I don’t want to see you anymore. I want to be with Bill. Get it?”

Trying again, Georg says persuasively, “I won’t rush you. I won’t crowd you or stifle you or cling to you. I’ll give you all the space you need. Just give me a chance, honey. Please. Just give us a chance.”

“Georg, nothing you say or do is going to change my mind. I’ve already chosen.” Tom’s voice is firm and determined, his unwavering gaze reflecting the strength of his resolution, eyes grave and solemn. “It’s over. It’s finished. We are finished. For good this time. Do you understand me?”

“Tom, think about it. You don’t want to do this,” Georg protests, starting to panic at the idea of losing the boy forever.

“It’s already done.”

“But you’re making a mistake!”

“And you’re making an embarrassment of yourself,” Tom says warningly. “Don’t beg, Georg. It’s not getting you anywhere.”

A new plea rises to Georg’s tongue but it dies when he sees the expression of Tom’s features, the steadfast resolve, the grim line of the boy’s mouth, the finality in his dark coffee eyes. He’s never seen Tom look so serious. He’s not messing around this time.

Georg’s heart plummets like a rock in a lake as he realises the inevitability of the situation. Tom’s right. This was bound to happen sooner or later. From the beginning, their relationship was wrong. The time, the place, everything; it was all wrong. Tom was already spoken for; he was taken, he belonged to someone else. And he still does. Georg has been a fool to think it could work out. He’s been living in a fairytale land and now reality has come rudely crashing in, smashing his hopes and dreams to jagged shards. For weeks now he has been waiting for his teenage co-star to make a decision and finally Tom has. It’s just not the one Georg wants. But it’s Tom’s decision and even if he doesn’t like it, Georg has to respect it. He has to accept it.

No matter how much it hurts.

In a tortured whisper, Georg confesses, “If you leave me now, Tom, I don’t know how I’m going to cope. I’ll miss you too much.”

“Don’t say anything else,” Tom threatens with a glare. “Not a fucking word. There’s nothing left to discuss. I’m going and that’s it. Goodbye.”

Before Tom walks out of his trailer and his life, Georg rushes over, grabs him and slants his mouth over the boy’s, giving him the deepest, longest, most heartfelt and passionate kiss that he’s ever given to anyone. He pours his heart and soul, his very being, into that kiss. He pours every bit of his love into it, hoping that Tom can feel it, that it will have some effect, that it will prevent the kid from leaving. When Tom doesn’t return the kiss, Georg breaks it off and presses his forehead against the other male’s, eyes squeezed shut to stop himself from crying. Though the rejection wounds him like a knife, Georg refuses to cry. He will not cry. Not in front of Tom. He wants to be left with some dignity after this is all over. When he pulls back and meets the teenager’s gaze, Georg has mastery over his feelings. On the outside, at least.

“Get away from me,” Tom hisses, shoving Georg in the chest. He doesn’t want to prolong this whole horrible experience. Tom just wants to make it as quick and painless as possible, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

“Do you love me?” Georg asks on impulse, cradling Tom’s face in his palms, searching his eyes. “Even a little bit? Tell me and I’ll let you go.”

“God damn you!” Tom curses in a furious whisper, yanking Georg’s hands away from his face. “God damn you to hell for asking me that, Georg!”

“But do you?”

“Fuck you!” Tom spits, fingers clenching by his sides.

“Tell me,” Georg commands, blocking the doorway so Tom can’t leave.

“No!” Tom steps forward aggressively. “Get out of the way or I’ll hit you.”

Unafraid of the violence lurking within the first male, Georg calmly says, “Just tell me how you feel about me, Tom.”

Eyes flashing, Tom snarls, “You wanna know? Well, I hate your guts, all right?”

“No, you don’t. You don’t hate me and I don’t hate you.”

“Let me go, Georg.”

Closing his eyelids as a wave of torment passes through him, Georg decides to tell the truth, that he loves Tom. It may not keep the kid here but he needs to do it. He needs to say it.

Softly, Georg begins to reveal, “I don’t want to let you go, Tom Trumper, because I’ve fallen completely and deeply in-”

“Don’t!” Tom cries, slapping a hand over Georg’s mouth. “Don’t you say that! Don’t you fucking dare!”

Set on his course, Georg kisses Tom’s palm before removing it. He has to do this now, or he’s never going to do it. “I have to, baby. I have to tell you that I -”

“I love Bill,” Tom interrupts hoarsely, his eyes begging Georg not to make this any more difficult than it already is. “I love her and I want to be with her. Just let me go. Please!”

The raw emotion on Tom’s face and in his voice is the only reason why Georg stops. It looks as though Tom is almost going to cry. While the boy has made his choice, Georg can plainly see that it’s not an easy one for him. He has to respect Tom’s choice and he has to let the boy go. Georg can’t keep what isn’t his. It kills him to admit it, but Tom has never really been his. He was just on loan for a while.

It’s time to give him back.

“Okay,” the older man says, stepping away, unbearable agony unfurling in his chest, as though his heart is on a hook in Tom’s hands and is being slowly ripped from his body with every backward step. His voice sounds strained, as if each word is being forced through thick mud. “Okay. You can leave. You can be with Bill. I won’t stop you.”

Ashamed of his emotional outburst, Tom turns around so his back is to Georg, quickly wiping at his eyes. He sniffs and swallows, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, gaining some semblance of control. He hadn’t wanted Georg to know how he really feels about doing this. He’d tried to be mean and cold and said all those vicious things earlier in the hopes that it would force Georg to hate him. If Georg hated him, it would be so much easier for the older actor to get over being dumped and get on with his life. If Georg hated him, it would be so much easier for Tom to walk away. But Georg doesn’t hate him. And Tom, in spite of his saying so, doesn’t hate Georg. Quite the opposite. There is absolutely no hate between them whatsoever. It would all be so much easier if there were. However they feel about each other, this still has to be done. Last night in Georg’s bed they shared the most intimate physical and emotional experience two people can possibly share, and now they have to say farewell. They have to go their own separate ways.

In a flashback, Tom is reminded of the last and only time he spoke with Ria. She said that he wouldn’t have to choose between Billinda and Georg. She said that life would do the choosing for him. Destiny, fate, whatever you want to call it – that is the element of life that decides what happens to a person. Fate chose to cast Tom and Georg in the same movie, throwing them together, and now fate, for its own mysterious purposes, has chosen to split them apart. Ria was part of the grand design and so is Bill. She will be here tonight, through no doing of Tom’s. Fate is making this happen. Not him. He is just following the path chosen for him. And if fate is choosing this path, no matter how painful, it must be the right one.

Lifting his chin in renewed determination, Tom turns back around. Georg is standing there silently, hands tucked in his pockets, face veiled. When Georg lifts his eyes, the normally sparkling ocean-green spheres are subdued with sorrowful defeat. At that moment he looks more like a sad little boy than a twenty five year old man. Resolutely ignoring the desire to run back into the other actor’s arms, Tom clears his throat and says, “I guess I’ll see you, then,” trying to sound casual and unaffected when they both know they will never be seeing each other again. Well, they will still see each other because they still have a movie to finish, but they will not be seeing each other alone like this anymore. This is it. This is the last time. This is the curtain call. Time to take their final bows and exit gracefully.

“Yeah.” Georg nods slowly. “See ya.”

Heading to the exit, Tom pauses by the door, a blank mask on, barriers all around him. “Listen, G,” he says neutrally. “Do yourself a favour and forget about me, all right?”

Georg can’t answer. He can’t speak. His throat has completely closed up. The look on his face is one of a person who is bleeding to death inside, but who is desperately attempting not to let it show.

It’s not working. Tom can see it, all too clearly. And it makes him feel unutterably awful. He grits out, “I’m so fucking sorry, Georg,” and wrenches the door open, hastily leaving before his cracked armour shatters to pieces.

As the door thuds shut after him, it sounds to Georg like the lid of a coffin being closed. He stands there, trying to be brave, trying to hold himself together, trying to comprehend what just happened.

Then it hits him like a ton of bricks.

Tom Trumper, the most beautiful, exceptional, incredible person he’s ever had the privilege of knowing has left him. No more touching, no more hugging, no more kissing. No more anything. Tom has gone. He’s gone and he’s not coming back. He does not love Georg.

Tom loves Bill.

With an anguished sob, the older actor sinks to his knees and buries his face in his hands. The crushed red rose lies beside him on the floor, its perfume fading, vanishing, disappearing. Dying.

Just like him.

……

The following morning, all too soon but inevitable and unavoidable nonetheless, Georg has to brace himself for the appearance of the one who has stolen Tom away from him, the one who gets to have what Georg doesn’t, the one who owns Tom’s heart. The one who has always owned it - Billinda Kaulitz. She stays with the teenager in his trailer for a few days, the two of them spending every spare second they can with each other, on set and off. It’s extremely painful for Georg to witness them together, seeing Tom and Bill holding hands and cuddling, looking so much in love while he is ignored, while he gets nothing. It hurts. Fuck, how it hurts, and when he’s alone in his trailer’s bedroom he grieves for what he has lost. Georg is consumed with pain that eats at him like black crows, picking at the shreds of his wounded soul and leaving his ribs laid bare. It’s as though all of his vital organs have been scooped out and he is nothing but a hollow shell of a human being. He is so empty without Tom. So cold. Georg’s grief is so unbearable that he truly feels as though he is going to shrivel up and die.

But he doesn’t. He survives and he has to keep on surviving. Georg knows that the best thing he can do for himself is gather up the splintered pieces of his existence and get on with living. Despite working on the movie together for a few more weeks, it’s as though he and Tom are strangers. He misses his chocolate-eyed co-star terribly, especially at night, and feels incomplete, as if he has lost one of his limbs but Georg realises that he needs time apart from Tom to get over what they had, or almost had, or could’ve had if circumstances were different. He needs to forget the teenager’s unique smell and the way that Tom kissed and the feel of that lean male body against his own. He needs to forget rough caresses and whispered pleas, the faces that the boy made in pleasure and the sound of Georg’s own name spilling out of Tom’s mouth in a moan. He needs to forget the heat, the electricity.

The love.

Even if he didn’t say it to Tom, even if Tom didn’t want to hear it, they both felt it, sitting just under the surface, the way an opal waits within the crust of tough stone to be discovered and polished until it glisters. Georg loved Tom like he had loved no other person, yet Georg has to forget that now, along with everything else. He doesn’t want to forget those things. And he can’t. He simply cannot erase those memories from his mind as if the affair never happened because it did, but he tries very, very hard not to think about it. They need to drift apart. They have to. It is excruciating and Georg sheds tears over it in private, but that’s the way it has to happen. It just isn’t meant to be.

But it’s not the end of the world.

Even when he has been kicked in the guts and had his heart trampled on like a cowboy beneath a herd of stampeding cattle, Georg is not the type to sink into a depression and stay there. Life is a gift, far too valuable to spend it depressed and lonely. He wallows in his misery for a brief while, climbs out and then starts dating Hannah. She says yes the first time he asks her out. He becomes quite fond of the older woman, as she is with him. They decide to go public with their romance, undaunted by the attention they receive over their ten year age gap. Georg and Hannah don’t hide from the paparazzi. They have no reason to. They are both single, consenting adults, quite happy to be snapped having a cosy dinner date or holding hands walking down the street, looking like a couple of honeymooners. In retrospect, Georg realises that she got him on the rebound but perhaps that is exactly what he requires to get over his heartbreak. Being with Hannah is like a salve to his wounds; she’s wonderful to him, however it isn’t the same as being with Tom. Nothing is. As the song goes, “If you can’t be with the one you love, honey, love the one you’re with.” Since he has no other choice, that’s exactly what Georg does.

It’s a challenge for the experienced actor to deal with the angst of his separation from Tom whilst still being forced to work together with the kid but having Hannah nearby helps Georg to get on with his life. Tom gets on with his too, continuing his relationship with his long-term girlfriend. In spite of the emotional distance between them, the two male co-stars behave like mature adults about their failed affair, putting their past behind them and concentrating on finishing the production of the movie, redoing certain scenes and tidying up loose ends cinematography-wise.

Before long, it is over. The shoot, the flirting, the excitement, the secret rendezvous, the passion. It is all over. Tom and Georg are over. And all they have to show for it are a few intense, longing looks captured everlastingly on celluloid film. At the Los Angeles premiere of the crime thriller, in the darkened, plush-carpeted, air-conditioned movie theatre, third row from the front, Georg is seated with Tom on his right and Hannah on his left. On the other side of Tom is his girlfriend Billinda. The rest of the row and the ones in front of them and behind them are taken up by Gustav Schafer and his wife, producer David Jost, writer Terry Young, the now thirteen year old actress Amy Hall and her father, as well as the other actors, editors, executive producers and various important people without whom the film would not have been made possible.

After watching himself in the alley scene, and being flooded with mixed memories about that day and their first improvised (and unscreened) kiss, Georg turns to glance at Tom and finds the second young man already looking at him. Tom is attired in a black satin shirt with matching tie, black suit pants and tailored black jacket; very fancy. In fact, it’s the fanciest thing Georg has ever seen him wear and he looks so damn fine. Although Tom doesn’t like tuxedos, he had to dress up because this is his first big-budget Hollywood film and he didn’t want to look like a street kid in his baggy denim next to everyone else in their sparkling formal wear. He still has the lip-ring and tubular earrings but Tom’s hair is different now, dyed ebony and braided tightly into cornrows. Georg isn’t sure if the hairstyle is for a movie role or just because Tom wanted to change his look. Either way, he’s still just as gorgeous as the day Georg first laid eyes upon him.

Georg is also wearing a suit, all-black like Tom, which is kind of spooky considering he and Tom haven’t spoken for many weeks and couldn’t possibly have coordinated their outfits. It’s almost like funeral wear, as if they are in mourning. Which in a way, they are. This premiere is like the wake for their dead relationship, the end of something which once lived and breathed, something that had the potential to grow and soar towards the sky but now lies cold in the ground, killed off before it even had a chance. In the dim blue reflected light of the cinematic screen the two males lock gazes and without saying a word, know exactly what the other is thinking.

“You can see it. They got it on camera. US. They got us.”

Most people in the audience who detect the on-screen sexual tension think it is due to some ingenious acting on Tom and Georg’s behalf, but there are three people present who know the truth and who will never blab to the media. Those three are Tom, Georg and Gustav Schafer. Gustav knew the very next day that the two actors had split up. As their director he saw how difficult it was for Georg and Tom to face each other every morning on set and was very proud of how professional and focused they remained on the job regardless of their personal issues. He didn’t offer them any advice. They got through it on their own, like he knew they would.

Gazing at Georg in the theatre, Tom’s dark-coffee eyes are filled with something akin to regret, something that makes Georg’s chest feel constricted, as if an anvil is sitting heavily on his sternum. Georg wants to lean over and kiss Tom on the mouth - oh, how he misses that sweet, soft mouth with its silver ring - to whisper in his ear, to tell the other boy that he has not stopped thinking about him, not for one day. Instead of saying what he really wants, Georg leans in and murmurs quietly, “You look real good, kiddo.”

Tom replies just as quietly, “So do you.” Nobody hears them. They are all too engrossed in the film. There are a thousand other things that Georg wants to say but, knowing this is not the time or place, he keeps his personal thoughts to himself. The time and place to say those things was way back when. Not now. It’s too late now and it would hurt too much to reopen old wounds. The wisest thing to do is just to leave it all unspoken. As if he knows what Georg’s thinking, Tom gives him a nod and turns away, leaving Georg feeling as though he suddenly wants to cry.

If only...

If only they were still working together... If only they could go back in time... If only Georg had told Tom how much he loved him while he’d had the opportunity... If only he could have one more precious night with his ex-co-star... Even just a kiss... There are so many ‘if onlys’ swirling about in Georg’s head but it is no good dwelling upon them. What’s done is done and it’s finished now. It’s gone.

Georg reluctantly drags his gaze back to the premiere he’s supposed to be watching before the redhead next to him notices that he is staring at Tom. Georg does not want to tell Hannah about what happened. Not yet anyway. Maybe not ever. His emotions concerning the younger male are too fragile and unstable to speak of. Losing Tom is a continual ache deep within every cell and nucleus of Georg’s body that may subside with the passage of time but will never disappear completely. In the years to come, he may travel the globe, he may fall in love ten times, he may even get married and have a whole tribe of children, but he will never forget how much he loved Tom Trumper.

Unaware of Georg’s secret emotions, Hannah slips her palm onto his thigh and he lays his hand over the back of hers, absently caressing her fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, Georg can see Billinda snuggling into Tom’s side. She looks beautiful, if a bit too thin. She’s wearing a black lace dress and has a matching scarf wrapped around her head. Black high-heeled boots encase her long legs. There are chains around her neck and dozens of spiked bracelets on her slender arms, showing the Goth/punk style that she likes. There’s even a new ring through the girl’s nose. Tom places a kiss onto her temple and whispers into her ear. She smiles.

Unexpectedly, Bill turns in her seat and waves at Georg, still smiling. She must have noticed Georg looking at her. He forces a smile and gives a little wave back. Georg isn’t angry at Bill. She has done nothing to deserve it. She’s an innocent. He just hopes that she appreciates what she has. He just hopes that she appreciates Tom and doesn’t take him for granted. He hopes that she takes care of him, and listens to him, and hugs him and kisses away his tears when he is sad. Most of all, Georg just hopes that she loves Tom because that’s all the boy needs. Love. And he needs to be told it, to be shown it. Georg would have shown Tom how much he loved him, every single day and every single night, but he can’t now. Tom has made his choice. And it’s Bill Kaulitz. Although he is the loser here, Georg has no ill will towards Billinda. After all, she was there first. That’s just the way it is.

Focusing back on the huge screen in front of him Georg watches the rest of the movie with close attention, occasionally cringing at his own acting or chuckling at a humorous line. The film’s big climax is the scene where Miles Vanderwolf tries to escape with all of the diamonds, shooting Joseph in the leg and fleeing on a jet ski across the wide lake to the other side, where a parked getaway car is waiting for him. Joseph Reisinger manages to hobble into a speedboat and there’s a dramatic chase on the water between the two of them, resulting in Miles crashing the jet ski into a rock and being flung off. Still possessing feelings for the other man in spite of being double-crossed, Joseph drags Miles out of the water and into the boat, trying to save him. Miles is badly injured; he lies dying in Joseph’s arms.

With blood trickling from his nose and mouth, Miles says that he is sorry and that he never wanted it to end this way. Pressing the bag of diamonds into Joseph’s hand, Miles tells him to create a better life for himself and not to make the mistakes that Miles has. He tells Joseph to look after his little sister and then his last words are, “You will always be my best friend, Joe.” A tear streaming down his face, Joseph leans in as if to kiss the other man or say something meaningful back but Miles has already died. Joseph hugs his dead friend’s body and cries.

The film finishes with a shot of Joseph leaning on the wooden fence in front of a beautiful house, smiling as he watches his sister Krystal riding the pony she always wanted.

It’s kind of a happy/sad ending, which mirrors the way Georg feels about his breakup with Tom. He still feels lingering sadness about the demise of their short-lived affair but at the same time Georg is glad to have experienced such a passionate romance. On top of that, he is quite content with his life situation as it is now. He still has his home, his truck, his dog, his parents and his two sisters. He is fit and healthy, has a terrific new lady friend and a great group of buddies to spend time with. He has interesting and challenging job offers coming from left, right and centre and is being kept busy enjoying his successful career.

So, he and Tom are no longer lovers but, hey, shit happens. You deal with it. You move on. It’s not the first time he’s had a relationship split up, and it probably won’t be the last. Despite the ordeal he’s suffered - the trauma, the heartache, the loss, the pain - Georg still believes in happiness. In hope. In faith. And in love.

Besides, who knows what the future holds? Anything is possible. Absolutely anything.

Life is just one big improvisation, after all.
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Improvisation