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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
- 26
- 27
- 28
Chapter 27. Opportunity
A buzzer sounds in my room. I glance up at the intercom on the wall, a small square monitor showing the colour image of an Asian delivery man standing outside in the street, his arms full of paper bags.
“Ah, here’s our food.” I press the button, opening the communication channel to the outside intercom. In Japanese, I instruct the noodle-guy that I’ll be right up with his cash. Looking up at the security camera, he nods and waits.
“I’ve gotta go upstairs,” I tell Bill and Tom, climbing off the bed. “Will you two be all right here for a few moments?”
They immediately look fearful again, understandably unwilling to let me go in case I disappear and don’t return.
“Or,” I say slowly, “you can come with me and help me carry the bags.”
As the boys jump to their feet, keen to see what’s upstairs, I add, “Just don’t do anything dumb like try to escape or call for help or I WILL lock you in your room and never let you out again.”
“We won’t,” Bill hastily vows on behalf of himself and his brother. “We’ll be good. I promise.”
“You better be.” I give them a warning arch of my eyebrow. “I’m trusting you here and if you betray my trust I’ll be very upset with you both.”
“We won’t do anything. We swear!”
Bill’s exclamation is easy to believe but I look to Tom, not as trusting of him as I am of his little brother.
“What? I won’t do anything,” the older one says defensively. “I don’t wanna be locked in that room again. No fucking way.”
Finally believing that they will behave during this rare moment of freedom I’m giving them, I lead the two teens down the corridor and up some concrete stairs. There’s a keypad next to the steel door and I punch in the password. The door opens and I step forward, followed by the twins who are looking around in confusion. We’re standing in a rusty old shipping container. The large, heavy rectangular room-size box is open at one end and is pushed up against the wall of a dusty warehouse, lit from above with hanging lights, the vintage sort with wire cages around the bulbs. Other shipping containers are scattered about the place; some have old cars in them, other are full of mechanical parts. The one we’re in has stacks of tyres in it up to the container ceiling but there’s enough room to walk around them. The door we came through is hidden in the back of the shipping container, disguised to look like the metal rear wall of it. It is electronic, sliding open at the push of a button. No creaky, hinged wooden trapdoor for a modern, technologically-advanced villain like me. As they exit the container and enter the warehouse with its old car bodies, work benches and platform vehicle lifts, Bill and Tom are suitably impressed and awe-struck, acting as though they’ve just discovered Batman’s cave.
This place actually used to belong to a mechanic. I found it online and was particularly interested in the subfloor living area, beneath the warehouse. The guy who owned it originally had died of old age and it had been left as it was for fifteen years. I guess nobody wanted it so I got the warehouse at a bargain price. When the space was sold, it came with most of his stuff too so whoever bought it could continue the car repair business if they wished. I chose not to, instead using the warehouse as a perfect hideout from which to conduct my bounty hunting and other illicit activities.
We cross the dusty, oil-stained floor, scaring a flock of pigeons roosting up in the rafters, the sudden sound of their flapping wings making Bill jump and cover his head, as if afraid he’ll get pooped on. Tom just looks upwards in curiosity, gazing around as he trails behind me, occasionally stopping to admire one of the ancient, dust-covered cars, wiping away some of the grime to see the paint colour underneath, or to peer through a smeared window. All of the vehicles in here are older than the boys themselves, some from the 70s and 60s. None of them run, but they could if they were fixed up.
I bring the teenagers to the side entrance. I didn’t escort them in through this way originally – I brought the boys into my lair via the underground garage at the other end of the warehouse. As I open the door, I push them back behind it. I can’t let the delivery guy see Bill and Tom as he might recognise them. Even if he’s not a Tokio Hotel fan, a lot of people in Germany still know who they are, thanks to the relentless paparazzi. There are a few news reports out now about the missing twins and there is even wild speculation that they’ve been kidnapped. Not wanting that rumour to be confirmed, I put my finger over my lips, indicating for the boys to keep quiet. I am sure Bill will remain silent but if Tom starts yelling for help, I’m going to punch him in the face and knock him out. Then I’m going to have to knock out the delivery guy too, pack up all my shit and move Bill and Tom to one of my other safe-houses since this one would have been compromised.
I sincerely hope it won’t come to that.
As promised, my two captives stay quiet as I converse in Japanese with the man outside, pay in cash and receive my order. He nods his thanks, gets into his car and heads back to the noodle shop. I leave the side door open for a moment as I pass the paper bags of food to Bill. Outside, you can see by a couple of orange-tinted street lamps that the warehouse is located in an industrial zoned area; deserted roads and weed-infested lots punctuated by dirty-looking factories, metal fabricating and glass works, processing plants and other warehouses that are either abandoned or shut down for the night. It’s eerily silent and there’s not another person or vehicle to be seen anywhere.
Bending over slightly, I clutch at my ribs, acting as though they are paining me to distraction but what I’m really doing is giving Tom an opportunity to escape. I have my back to him, and to the door, and he could simply slip out of it and sprint down the road if he chose to. I’ll catch him if he tries that but I just want to see what he does. I just want to see if he’s still that desperate to get out of here. I can sense him glancing at the door and thinking about it, about running out into the night and flagging down a passing motorist (if he can find any, that is), but in the end he decides not to take the chance, turning away and taking one of the heavier bags from his brother. Following Bill back through the warehouse, the twins take our dinner towards the shipping container where the trapdoor is located, the boys waiting patiently for me to join them. Stepping into it, we all go back downstairs, incident-free.
We eat sitting on the carpeted floor of my room, Bill and I cross-legged and Tom with his legs bent, balancing the noodle box on his drawn-up knees. I eat with chopsticks while the boys use plastic forks. I ordered a small variety of dishes for them to try, including ramen and udon noodles with fried tofu and vegetable tempura. They seem to like it all.
“Where did you grow up?” Bill asks me, patting his lips with a napkin. “You can speak English, German and Japanese but you don’t have any accent. Not that I can hear, anyway.”
“Our family lived on a few different continents,” I answer him, taking a piece of deep fried zucchini in my chopsticks. “I was always good at picking up languages. I can also speak basic French and Swedish.”
Bill is awaiting further information and so in between bites of tempura I tell him about my childhood, how I moved around a bit due to my dad’s job, describing the countries I’ve lived in and what they were like.
“I’ve travelled all over the globe but there’s really no place like home,” I finish up.
“We’ve been to some of those countries touring but not to Japan yet. We’ve always wanted to go, haven’t we, Tom?”
“Mm-hm,” the other boy mumbles around a mouthful of noodles.
“We have lots of fans there and we’re very interested in your culture,” Bill furthers.
“You’ll love it,” I enthuse, thinking about the mountains, the lakes and the temples. “It’s a beautiful place.”
We get to discussing life in Japan, Bill and I doing most of the talking while Tom listens. After the food is all gone, I offer the boys cigarettes which they gratefully accept, not having had any for hours since they ran out. As we smoke, the conversation turns to my brother, Bill asking questions about him carefully, as if he doesn’t want to upset me. Thanks to painkilling drugs, good cuisine and good company I’m in a pleasant mood and am happy to talk about Keiichi, revealing the mischief we got up to in school – like when we pretended to be each other for a whole week and none of our teachers or classmates realised until we couldn’t keep straight faces any longer. I talk about the little ways Kei differed from me, such as how he used his left hand to write while I use my right, a phenomenon called ‘mirror image twins’. The centre part of his hair was offset to the left as well while mine naturally parts the opposite way. In every other aspect, though, we were nearly completely identical.
Somehow, the topic turns to how he died and my good mood turns sombre.
“Keiichi was always the healthier twin. A few months after my blood poisoning episode, I got the flu badly and developed pneumonia, ending in another hospital stay. It appeared that my immune system had been compromised and over the next few years, I seemed to pick up every bug and virus going around while Kei hardly even caught a cold. That’s why his heart failure was such a shock; I’d thought he was invincible. But that day when he collapsed…”
The pain rushes back as if it had been yesterday and I have to force the words out through a thickened larynx.
“You know in The Matrix film when someone’s hooked up in the chair and the bad guy pulls the plug out of the back of their head, and that person inside the system just drops to the ground? That’s what it was like. One second, we were training in our gym room together and the next it was like somebody unplugged him. I gave him mouth to mouth and frantically did CPR, trying to get his heart started but it was too late. He was already gone. I watched my perfectly fit twenty-five year old brother die right in front of me and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”
I stop there for a moment, gritting my jaw. I dare not look at Bill or Tom in case they see the sudden burning of angry tears in my eyes. I didn’t speak of Keiichi with any of the other twins when I had them in my custody. None of them ever asked about my personal life, or cared. But Bill does. I can sense his pity from a mile away, even though he hasn’t said anything. Even Tom is silent.
“Finding out that he had a faulty valve in his heart explained what happened but didn’t lessen the sudden and total hole ripped in my life. Losing my brother has left a huge scar right here.” I slash my closed fist diagonally along my chest, wanting my young captives to understand me more. “It will never go away, it will never heal and it will never stop hurting. So if you wonder why I act a little crazy sometimes, that’s why. I’m damaged inside, torn in half. And nothing can ever fix me.”
My voice cracks and I halt again, swallowing the aching lump in my throat. Though this is hellishly painful, it’s also amazingly cathartic to just tell someone else how I feel about the loss of my twin, my significant other. I’ve never done that before, never spoken of my feelings to anyone, except to a shrink who didn’t really give a shit about me, only my father’s money that was paying for the expensive psychotherapy sessions. But even with him, I never admitted as much as I just have to the two teens in my room right now.
Bill particularly seems affected by my pain, the brunette singer crawling closer. I sit there unresistingly as he wraps his thin arms around me, holding me tight. He just sorrowfully whispers my name, knowing that there is nothing he could say that would make things better. Nothing can take the emptiness and hurt away but having this sweet boy hugging me, freely offering his support and empathy…that helps. It helps a lot. A hot tear spills from my right eye and lands on Bill’s bare arm. He glances up in surprise, makes a small sound of dismay and wipes the wet trail from my face, pressing a tiny kiss to my cheek before embracing me again, laying his head compassionately on my shoulder.
I glance at Tom but he’s not mad or jealous that Bill is comforting me. Tom just seems sad. Sad for me. After what I’ve done to him and his brother, he ought to be gloating, glad that I’m suffering. But he’s not. He just feels sorry for me. I hate feeling weak and pathetic like this. I’m the big, bad kidnapper. I should inspire obedience, fear and respect, not sympathy. I’m hard and tough and don’t feel pain. Fuck, who am I kidding? I’m not fooling anyone here; Bill and Tom can see right through me. And to make matters worse, I’m letting them.
Accepting that I need what Bill is giving me, I let myself fold around his slender figure, burying my face into his silken ebony hair and trying not to cry. He is so soft and supple and warm. So full of life, breathing in my arms, his heart beating strongly and steadily, pulse thrumming through him like one of Tom’s guitar strings. Sometimes I feel completely dead inside but right now, Bill is keeping me alive and I hang onto him as if I’m never letting go.
Bill doesn’t let go either. After four cans of beer and a belly full of food, he soon gets sleepy and sags against my side, eyelids closed.
Keeping an arm around him to prevent him slipping to the floor, I gaze down at the top of Bill’s head. The roots of his hair are starting to show, his natural colour a lighter brown than the jet-black it’s been dyed. My eye travels down the long streaked locks falling over his shoulder, the ends tickling his forearm. His short-sleeved top has ridden up at the hem to expose his pale waist and hip. Unable to just look at that fine flesh, I lightly run a fingertip over the tattoo revealed there, tracing the five points of Bill’s bold ink star, delighting in the warmth and smoothness of his skin. He doesn’t wake.
I look up to see Tom watching, a possessive glint in his eye, the older male wordlessly warning me not to go down and touch Bill any lower. I wouldn’t anyway, not without Bill’s permission, so I move my hand back up to his shoulder and hug him chastely, showing that I can be trusted this close to such a pretty boy. When he feels me hugging him, Bill gives a happy little sigh in his sleep and snuggles into me more. He’s gained weight since he’s been here and is a lot less skinny than he was when I first carried his unconscious figure in through the garage. Thanks to all my calorie-rich meals, all his sharp bones have been covered by a layer of healthy flesh and he’s much softer now. Much more comfortable to cuddle.
He is leaning on my sore ribs but I don’t want to move the sleeping nineteen year old so I just tolerate the pain, feeling incredibly privileged just to be able to hold Bill like this, like I once held my own brother. Gently stroking his hair, I close my eyes, sighing in contentment. Even though I’m not touching Tom, his strong, quiet presence nearby soothes me. There’s something magical about being in the company of twins, something about these kindred spirits that fills a void within me. All my soul-hollowing loneliness and all my rage at this unfair world melts away. For the first time in a very long while, I feel at peace inside. I could stay here with these two boys, just like this, for the rest of my life.
.........
When I awaken sometime later, I realise that I was so content and peaceful cuddling Bill that I actually I fell asleep myself. Of course, I’m still doped up on powerful painkillers which didn’t help. I am now lying on the floor, Bill still clinging to my side. Tom has moved away from us, the other boy sitting up against my weapons cupboard, hands dangling between his sprawled thighs, brown eyes alert and aware. It looks like he’s been watching Bill and I doze. I lift myself up with my elbow, trying not to disturb Bill.
“How long was I out for?” I ask in a quiet tone, rubbing my eyes with one hand.
Tom glances at the digital clock on my bedside table, something I forgot to remove when I invited them in here.
“About an hour and a half. You snore, by the way.”
I stare at him. Knowing how Tom’s overactive brain works, he’s probably been thinking of ways to kill me and escape. And he totally could have. I was completely careless and left myself vulnerable to attack. While I slept, he could have taken the key from my pocket, opened the door to my weapons closet and selected a jagged-edged hunting knife to drive through my ribs and into my heart. From there he could have searched for my cell phone and called for help. Even if he hadn’t dared to steal my key, he still could have bashed my head in with the heavy-based wooden lamp beside my bed. He could have even held a pillow over my face and smothered me to death but for some reason he didn’t.
Way back when I first kidnapped them, Tom came up with that cold-blooded plan of hog-tying me with his belt and torturing me for the password but he didn’t even try it. He didn’t try a single thing.
“You could have killed me,” I comment. “Why didn’t you?”
He shrugs, lowering his eyes. “I’m not sure I believe you about the failsafe.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think you have one. I think you told Bill that the doors would unlock in the case of your death just to make him feel better.”
“You think I’m lying? You don’t think I planned for every conceivable situation that could happen here?”
Another shrug from him. “In any case, as much as I’d like to get out of here, it’s a gamble I’m not willing to take.”
Or maybe he just doesn’t want to kill me anymore. After what happened in the conference room, and what I let him do, all his aggression towards me seems to have vanished and he no longer has the drive to piss upon my bloody corpse. That’s a definite improvement.
“I’m glad you didn’t wake me; I was having a good dream,” I say with a small yawn that I cover with my palm. “It was about you, actually. You wanna know what happened?”
Tom stares at me. He inclines his head, curiosity finally getting the better of him. “What?”
Beckoning, I indicate for him to come nearer, so I can tell him without waking Bill up. After a pause Tom complies, scooting over on the floor, leaning down and turning his face to the side so I can lean up to his ear.
Whispering, I reveal, “I was kissing you,” and then I brush my lips over his stubbled cheek before he jerks away in surprise and alarm.
I lift my taped-up eyebrow at his reaction. “Oh, come on. Surely you’re not scared of me anymore.”
“I was never scared of you,” he replies with a slight frown.
Gazing thoughtfully at Tom, I think of all our interactions. Ever since I met him in that darkened parking lot of the metal recycling plant, he’s battled me every step of the way. He’s defied me, swore at me, yelled at me, struggled against me, even tried to shoot me and flatten me into the floor. He’s been upfront about his feelings towards me and let me know exactly how angry and pissed off I’ve made him. The only time he’s ever shown any real fear in my presence was when I threatened Bill way back in the early days, but even then Tom wasn’t afraid of me in particular, just of his brother being harmed. He’s done anything he could to protect Bill and has never cowered before me, no matter what I did or said.
When I had him in the choke-hold that first day he was here, Tom fought me like a soldier until he passed out. Even when I dug my thumb behind his ear a week later and crippled him with agony, he never screamed for mercy and he refused to cry out in pain. Even forced to his knees, he never surrendered. Tom has always faced me like a man and he always fights with everything he’s got. That’s one of the things I admire and respect him for.
“You’re right, Tom - you’re no coward.” Turning my wrist over, I hold my hand out to him. “Well, here’s another chance to prove it. Let’s shake and form a truce.”
My quiet challenge hangs in the air between us. He toys with his lip-ring, debating his next move. He looks at my waiting hand. He looks at me. He looks at Bill. He looks back at my hand. And then slowly, Tom reaches over and takes it, his fingers tentatively curling around mine.
“Bravo,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over his knuckles. He still has scabbed scuffs on them from where he punched me in the mouth and face but I’m not thinking about that. I’m focusing on how warm his palm is, how soft his skin is, except for a few fingertips where hard guitar-string calluses have formed to protect them. My fingers are slightly longer and slenderer than his, as are my nail-beds. Even though he has a tan, my skin is still darker than his.
Tugging on his hand, I try and coax him to lie down next to me, Tom deciding that’s enough contact for now and taking his fingers back. But he stays beside me on the floor, the reserved young man shifting onto his side and moving his lengthy dreadlocks away before bending his elbow and propping his head up on the heel of his palm, presumably so he can keep an eye on me and make sure I’m not touching Bill inappropriately. Which I’m not, of course. The slimmer twin is still fast asleep, his arm over my stomach and face against my chest, lips in a small pout and black eyelashes casting feathery shadows on his cheeks. He looks like a sleeping angel.
Speaking quietly so I don’t wake him, I say in wistful envy, “You’re a very lucky man, Tom Kaulitz.”
“Yeah,” Tom answers just as quietly. “I never knew how lucky I was until you took him from me.”
“That was the whole idea.”
“Well, it worked. I’ll never take Bill for granted again.”
“Bill’s lucky too.” I look at Tom with softened eyes. “I’d give anything to have a brother like you.”
He glances away in awkwardness, chewing on his pierced lower lip. I really want to taste that delicious-looking mouth of his but I’m wary of pushing my luck. If I try to kiss him right now he might pull away and go back to being distant and aloof again. I know it’s a huge step for Tom to even lie beside me so I’ll just enjoy that privilege for the moment and relish the rare closeness he’s allowing me to have with him. And his pretty twin.
We all lie there in companionable silence for another twenty minutes or so before the dull ache in my side sharpens to an almost unbearable level, due to Bill leaning on my multicoloured bruises. Regretfully, I shake his shoulder and he lifts his head, drowsy eyes cracking open in confusion.
“Sorry to wake you, kiddo,” I apologise, “but you’re hurting my ribs.”
“Scheisse,” he swears in German, quickly getting off me and covering his mouth with appalled horror. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
I smile ruefully. “Because you looked so cute all sleepy and snuggly like that.”
“Oh Gott. I’m so sorry. I forgot you were bruised.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him as I laboriously push myself into a standing position, Bill rushing to help me up while Tom stands by, unsure whether to assist or not. “You guys should go back to your room now anyway. It’s late.”
“Do we have to?” Bill asks in disappointment.
“Well, I’d be delighted to have you sleep over but it’ll be a bit…cosy…with all three of us sharing one bed.” I quirk my lips in amusement. “It will be hard to tell whose hands belong to whom.”
“We’ll go back to our own room,” Tom hurriedly states, grabbing his brother by the arm and steering him towards the open door.
Chuckling at his hasty response, I say, “Just kidding. Thank you for a wonderful night. Both of you. I had a great time.”
“Us too.” Bill speaks from the doorway, where his protective older brother is keeping him. “Thanks for dinner, Koji. It was very tasty.”
“You’re welcome. Oh, wait - take these with you.” I toss him a new packet of cigarettes. “I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast. Is there anything you want in particular?”
“Can we have crepes? With strawberries? And cream?” Bill asks hopefully.
“If you’re good,” I answer with a teasing wink.
“I’m always good,” he teases back, grinning with those sparkly white teeth of his.
Scowling, Tom starts to drag him away before Bill and I can flirt too much.
“Good night, Tommy,” I light-heartedly farewell the bigger teen. “I appreciate you not stabbing me in the throat while I slept.”
“Starting to regret that, actually,” he mutters to himself as he’s heading down the corridor with his sibling.
I smile, shutting my door once they’re safely back in their own room.
………
When I switch on my monitor to check up on the boys, they’re smoking again.
Flopping onto the couch with a lit cigarette in his fingers, Bill sighs, “Koji’s awesome.”
Arching a brow beside him, Tom replies dubiously, “If you say so.”
“Well, he is. I mean, he’s a Bounty Hunter! How fucking cool is that?” Sighing again, Bill turns and throws his legs over Tom’s, reclining back on the piece of soft furniture and gazing dreamily at the roof. “We found out a lot of stuff about him tonight. I like hearing him talk. And his hair smells good, too.”
“You smelled his hair?”
“Well, not on purpose. When I was lying beside him, it was right in my face and…yeah. It’s nice. Nicer than your stinky dreadlocks, anyway.”
“My dreads don’t stink!”
“Sometimes they do,” Bill insists, as Tom pulls one under his nose to sniff it uncertainly.
“Do they really stink? I can’t tell.”
“Only when you don’t wash them for a while.”
“I can’t wash them too much,” Tom objects. “They’ll come undone.”
“Maybe you should get braids,” Bill suggests. “I bet braids don’t stink.”
“What, like cornrows?”
“Yeah. I think they’d suit you. They’re neater than dreadlocks. More stylish.”
“I guess I could do with a change,” Tom grants, still holding out one of his blond dreads to inspect it. “They are looking a bit ragged.”
“Maybe you should go darker too. Try a new colour.”
“If you’re gonna start suggesting I wear eyeliner, just forget it. I already let you put makeup on me once and that was enough. You’re not giving me a makeover, Bill.”
“I wasn’t trying to! I just thought perhaps you could update your look a little.”
Tom grunts. “So, Koji’s hotter than me? Is that what you’re getting at?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you think he’s good looking, right?”
“Well, sure. Of course he is. Don’t you think so?”
“I don’t think about him as much as YOU obviously do,” Tom drawls laconically. “I warned you that you’d get Stockholm Syndrome. See? You’re in love with him now.”
“I am not in love with him and I don’t have Stockholm’s!” Bill argues, his cheeks turning a cute shade of pink.
“Yeah, you are and yes, you do.”
“Do not!”
“Oh, Koji,” Tom sighs dramatically and romantically, fluttering his lashes at Bill. “You’re so cool and awesome and have a sexy voice and your hair smells SO good…”
“Shut up! I didn’t say his voice was sexy,” Bill mumbles, blushing even brighter, realising that Tom is most likely right and that he has in fact inadvertently developed feelings for his abductor. Namely, me. I know it’s only a side-effect of his captivity and will fade when I let them go but for now I can’t help being thrilled by Bill’s infatuation.
“You said you like hearing him talk. Same thing,” Tom retorts. “You’re not exactly hiding your crush on the guy, Bill. I saw how happy you were to see him today.”
“Of course I was happy. I thought he was dead or something, no thanks to you.” The younger teen frowns at his dreadlocked brother. “It’s your fault Koji didn’t see us for so long, Tom. You really messed him up with what you did. All those nasty bruises…”
“Oh, come on. He ASKED for it!” Tom exclaims exasperatedly.
“Even so, you better not do that again. I’ll never forgive you if you do.”
“Well, excuse me for ruining his perfect fucking face,” the older boy grumbles in a mixture of irritation and jealousy, shoving Bill’s legs off him.
They smoke in miffed silence for a while, each twin dwelling on their own thoughts and grievances. Tom is the one who speaks first.
“You know, Bill, we could have escaped before when we were upstairs. After the noodle guy left, the door was still open for a minute or so. Koji turned his back on us. The street was right there outside. We could have made a run for it then.”
Bill blinks a few times in rapid succession as he belatedly realises that he had indeed missed a prime escape opportunity. “You’re right. But I didn’t even think about trying to leave. Besides, I promised we wouldn’t.”
“YOU promised that. I didn’t,” Tom reminds him. “Koji’s injured and I’m a lot stronger and fitter than I was before. I could have made a dash for it and outrun him.”
“Maybe,” Bill replies uncertainly. “Or maybe he would have just caught you again and broken your legs.”
“I could have still tried. I could have gone and gotten help.”
Bill looks quizzically at his twin. “So, why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want to go without you, Bill. I didn’t have time to grab you and bolt. I wouldn’t have made it. Anyway, I could never leave you behind,” Tom confesses. “Who’d take care of your clumsy ass then?”
The younger teenager half-smiles. “I’m glad you didn’t try to run.”
Crushing out his cigarette, Tom regards his brother thoughtfully. “Bill, can I ask you something personal?”
Shrugging as though he’s an open book, Bill says, “Sure.”
“Do you still want to get out of here? Do you want to go home with me? Or would you rather stay down here with Koji?”
“Of course I want to go home with you,” Bill immediately replies, appearing surprised that Tom would even ask.
“Then why aren’t you thinking about escaping?”
“Because attempting to escape now would only make Koji mad. He trusts us, enough to let us out of our room and show us what’s upstairs. Tom, we are THIS close to being let go.”
Here Bill makes a one inch gesture with his forefinger and thumb.
“What about the…thing… he wants us to do?” Tom inquires, avoiding the specifics of what that ‘thing’ actually entails. “Don’t we have to do that first?”
“Maybe not. He might let us go without it.”
Now it’s Tom’s turn to appear surprised. “Did he tell you that?”
Bill nods enthusiastically. “Yeah. He did.”
“Why?”
“Perhaps he’s changing his mind. He likes us, Tomi. He trusts us. If we break his trust or make him angry he’ll just hold us here longer. If we’re good, we’ll earn our freedom. We could be out of here by the end of the week.”
And they very well could be. From the beginning, I promised I’d let them go once I was satisfied with their personal growth and if they achieved what I wanted them to achieve. Bill has been taking tremendous steps forward with that but Tom is the one who’s holding them back. Tom’s mulish stubbornness is the reason why they’re still here. I did offer to let them both go the other night in a moment of weakness, when Bill and I spoke in my room alone, when he seemed so miserably upset. They could have gone home the very next day. I would have let them. But Bill said no. He said he didn’t want to leave yet.
Wisely, Bill doesn’t reveal this choice to his twin. By only telling Tom what he needs to hear, Bill is giving his big brother hope without putting the pressure on him to perform. Not just that, but Tom would be pissed beyond belief if he knew he could have been home and sleeping in his own bed already. He would be absolutely furious knowing that Bill lied to him.
However, Bill’s not the only one withholding information. There’s the not-so-small matter of what Tom did to me in the conference room, after he bashed me. He hasn’t told Bill about that. Maybe he’s scared of his little brother’s reaction or maybe he’s trying to protect Bill in some way. Nonetheless, it’s still a lie and knowing what twins are like, these lies will eventually have to come out. They can’t go on keeping secrets from each other forever.
I just wonder which one will come out first…

A/N: Hey, didn't hear much from you guys last time! I'm curious to know your thoughts about something. I know you all want Bill and Tom to be set free and go home but what would you like to happen before then? Do you all still want the twincest? Or would you rather I pair Bill up with Koji, or Tom with Koji, or none of the above? I'd love to know what your preferences are, before I write the next chapter. Who knows - your idea could become part of the story! :)
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Captivation