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Silence	By : kimbk Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 1909 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know any members of Rammstein. This is purely a work of fiction: it does not intend to reflect any aspect of the members' lives and I do not make any profit from this work.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Author's Note: FFFFFFFFFF I never expected that many 5-star ratings. O_o I thought that no one would be interested in a TL;DR like this. Thank you for reading and appreciating this fic! Though I would like some reviews/constructive criticism too. I can always improve further.
Richard's family situation is somewhat resolved here. This chapter is hopefully less filler-ish than the second one, but it is still pretty description-heavy. But at least I'm focusing on a much smaller time frame this time. Again, Paul was greatly expanded on in this chapter - he is ridiculously fun to write. I don't want this fic to appear like a mopey and depressed Richard becoming obsessed with Till kind of story, and I very well can't just leave the rest of the band as faceless and personality-less when this fanfic spans pretty much their entire time together! I hope their interactions with the rest of the band are entertaining to read and advance the plot sufficiently.
The two lines of poetry that Richard quotes is from 'Messer', and are the opening lines to 'Nele (2)'. They translate roughly to: 'Darling child, don't let me weep / forgive me for my weak brain...' That poem is copyrighted to Till Lindemann. 'Messer' is truly worth a read.
Please enjoy!
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Till's advice to Richard never gets the opportunity to materialize. The guitarist knows that it was valid advice at the very least, because it's probably come from Till's own experiences, but it doesn't help him in the slightest because he's alienated Caron entirely. She's unhappy with the way things are, and they fight without either of them caring or even stopping for a second to ask: what are they even achieving with all of their arguments? The answer is nothing, and they both know it, but neither of them do anything about the matter. Richard feels empty about the whole thing and occasionally what Till said comes to mind, but he always manages to push it away because he's so convinced that he's in the right. So is Caron, unfortunately, and they both know that they won't agree on anything anymore, but neither of them care much about working it out. Rammstein comes out of their hiatus after a year as promised, refreshed and energized and eager to go on, and he takes that opportunity to bury himself in work and forget about his family troubles as much as he can.
Caron finally says that she'd had enough and that they should separate sometime during 2004, and Richard has nobody to blame but himself and nothing to state except for a tense silence and a nod. The unspoken ultimatum has been decided; he could haven chosen between the band and her, and it was the band who got his loyalty in the end. She leaves that very night, sparing him barely a glance as the door shuts in his face. If not for Khira Li sleeping in her bedroom he'd have left and gotten himself completely and utterly drunk, but instead he ends up sitting in the living room by himself and thinking about where it all went wrong, over and over again. Each time he comes to the same conclusion: it wasn't meant to be from the very beginning. She tormented him because she could not accept that he wouldn't be present all the time and he tormented her for being his wife and having those not-unrealistic expectations. He slept with other women, she got her own back at him through various means and ending their relationship once and for all - the word she used was 'separation' but Richard knows that she really meant 'divorce' and that she was perfectly aware that he understood. All just one huge cycle of hating and cheating and being unsatisfied.
He makes up for the lack of drowning his sorrows within a few days, when he meets up with the rest of the band in their rented flat to draft ideas for the release of 'Reise, Reise'. From the moment he walks in the door, disheveled and thin and clenching a cigarette between his lips, they all figure out that he's having serious trouble with his personal life. None of them are tactless enough to comment (which doesn't surprise Richard, that's just how he likes it, thank you very much), but Till in particular is giving him odd looks throughout their discussions. It's quite amusing how much they care and how much he doesn't, Richard thinks, before reprimanding himself for doing so. They don't deserve it, none of what he's going through is their fault. He passes over their worried glances and thinks only of drinking himself comatose; he doesn't go out with the others that night, feeling too miserable to interact with other human beings or women in particular, but instead sits down with a few bottles of wine and steadily focuses on emptying them one glass at a time.
"Don't drink so much," Till finally tells him around half ten at night when he comes back, watching Richard trying to empty his third bottle of wine. "you've got a marriage to save, Risch."
"Marriage?" the guitarist starts laughing hysterically, pushing away the bottle and drunkenly staggering to his feet. "what are you talking about, Till?"
Till doesn't say anything, but his eyes darken and his expression becomes more melancholy when he realizes that Richard's marriage is dissolving and that it's probably too late to do anything about it. The guitarist expected all sorts of reactions from him - a sympathetic slap on the back followed by him taking the younger man out to get more hideously drunk, perhaps, and the night would end with them loudly proclaiming that it would always be bros before hos before passing out on the floor or something. Even barely restricted joy from the man would have sufficed, although the younger man knows that it would have been tactless beyond belief, just so he can see that the singer has some positive opinions about the whole thing. What he didn't expect was this look of almost-disappointment from Till, the one person who he thought might see the good in his upcoming divorce, and it just makes him feel more miserable. But as much as he wants to, he doesn't lash out this time. It's not worth it. He looks away from the other's concerned face and makes his way towards the refrigerator. "I've got cravings again. Paul said that he put canapés in the fridge last night, didn't he? He didn't eat them all, right?"
"He didn't, but Schneider and Flake definitely did," Till informs him, still gazing at him worriedly. Richard curses out loud at this but nevertheless opens the fridge door to see if anything might be there; there is simply more alcohol in the form of vodka and beer, none of which he particularly fancies at the moment, and a few vol-au-vents that he can see are filled with prawns and he doesn't like prawns and even if he did he certainly wouldn't eat them while drunk because that could be disastrous. Best to leave them be.
But then, he can make these leaps of logic even with all the alcohol in him! Perhaps he's not too drunk after all. Richard manages another laugh as he shuts the fridge door, pleased with himself for coming to that conclusion. His good mood is deflated a little when he realizes that Till is staring at him as if he's gone mad, but he manages to keep himself in check with a cool glance before heading towards the bedroom. An exit with both style and grace, just like Herr Richard Z. Kruspe-Bernstein always does.
Well, less so the last bit of that name. Probably should have it legally dropped again soon, the bitch, he thinks, before letting out a demented chuckle. It'd be sad if he wasn't so drunk and if it wasn't so hilarious. He takes off his jacket and throws it over the back of a chair before collapsing right onto the bed where he sits there staring at the ceiling with his back pressed against the headboard. He feels the unpleasant sensation of his wallet digging into his thigh and takes it out of his pocket, feeling numb to everything as he opens it and mechanically reaches for the photo of him and Caron together and tears it up into shreds. He disposes of the pieces on the floor and closes his wallet, putting it aside before going back to staring blankly above him. It's going to be a hell of a hangover that he'll have tomorrow; if he isn't hungover by some miracle, he's still not going to feel at all better about himself, either. But he can't bring himself to care all that much. However, while he couldn't care less, Till certainly does, and strides into the room.
"Did I say that you could come in?" he slurs out without really thinking about what he's saying.
"Drink this," Till thrusts a glass of water into his hands, completely ignoring what he's said. Richard blinks at it but doesn't drink it or put it away. "I guess you're not planning on drinking more wine anytime soon, so do me a favor and drink that glass of water and go to bed."
"Yes, Mutter," Richard shoots back, but takes a reluctant sip anyway. The water slides down his throat and the coldness of it makes him want to gag, but he forces it down. A few more sips and suddenly it doesn't seem quite as bad. Till watches him down every single drop before he is satisfied and sits down next to the younger man.
They sit there for a while, Richard mindlessly tapping his fingernails around the empty glass.
"Caron and I made a horrible mistake," he finally opens his mouth, Till looking over at him. "talk about an unholy union. Should never have married. We stayed together because of Khira Li more than anything. I guess after a while she couldn't even bring herself to care about that aspect of her life. But then why would she really, she's not even her daughter, she's mine. Hell. she probably belongs more to you than she ever belonged to Caron. We were just pretending all along."
The older man makes a startled movement at those words and the guitarist isn't sure whether to let out a cheer or apologize. Till is seldom shocked by anything. Being drunk is really paying off if he's actually managing to surprise the man multiple times in one night. "Don't say such things, Risch. I know you don't mean any of it."
"Oh, I do." Richard lets out a chuckle and slides downwards, fully lying on the bed with a grin on his face and feeling very lighthearted.
"Tomorrow morning you aren't going to remember any of this and you'll be asking me whether you were being an idiot. I'm certainly not going to lie when that happens."
"But it is true, Till. My daughter's name is Khira Li Lindemann. Does this make you and her kind of related in a way? Or even you and me? All this wouldn't be happening if I didn't exist. I still wonder how you didn't beat the shit out of me back then when I first told you about her. I'm a real asshole."
"Believe me, you are," Till says humorlessly, but adjusts the pillows beneath the younger man. "but at least I got over it quickly because by that point it wasn't any of my business - and because you look after your daughter. What's the point in bitching."
A giggle. "Some father I am. I'm certainly not looking after her right now when I could. You brought up Nele to be a wonderful girl despite being away with the band nearly half the time, that's what you call a father. When I was depressed you came over and looked after Khira Li too, you're practically family to her. Sometimes I think she likes being around you more than me. Everyone would be so much better off if I disappeared out of their lives altogether. Oh God. This is so screwed up."
The singer doesn't even grace him with a reply, simply giving him a look that is both of disbelief and pity. The latter isn't something that the younger man expected, so he stares back at Till's face for what feels like an awfully long time, trying to search out more emotions. The singer doesn't appreciate being stared at, whether by drunk or sober people, and turns away.
"You're drunk, you're telling me a load of nonsense, and I think that you should stop talking," Till finally says with such a resolute tone that Richard briefly obeys without questioning him. The singer puts away the glass by the table and pushes Richard to the centre of the bed, making sure that he's in a comfortable enough position.
"It was all a horrible mistake," the guitarist mutters, the words sounding hollow even to himself. "we shouldn't have married each other. At least that's getting amended."
"You're repeating yourself," something rustles beneath his body; the younger man looks over, but it's just Till pulling the duvet over him. "why don't you try to sleep."
"Fine," Richard scoffs as he turns his back on the singer. "some friend you are, not even wanting to hear me out. Because it's not like you're the only person in my life who I can talk to right now, or anything. Go away."
He feels Till's weight shift away from the mattress as he stands up, and curls up slightly in response, trying to make himself look as unapproachable as possible. His hand brushes against his wallet again, and he opens it up, flicking through his cards and the messily tucked-in bills until he gets to the photo of his daughter smiling innocently at the camera. It is this picture that softens his heart, and he runs his fingers over the surface of the photo lightly, suddenly feeling sad. Till is still there, in the room with him, maybe watching him, but for the moment he doesn't have any of that in mind as he pulls the photo closer to him and softly recites a poem that the singer dedicated to his own daughter once.
"Liebes Kind laß mich nicht weinen, vergebe meinem schwachen Hirn..."
Till inhales sharply as he hears the words, and Richard stops immediately, wondering if he's offended the older man in any way. After all, it might be an old poem of Till's that he was happy to publish, but it was and always will be for Nele. But the guitarist is reassured somewhat when he feels the mattress sink lightly beneath him, indicative of Till sitting back down. "You actually memorized that poem?"
"No father can read anything you wrote for your children and not engrave it into their minds."
For Richard it was just a simple honest answer, but Till has the heart of a poet; the guitarist realizes that he's taken that statement as a compliment of the highest caliber when he feels the older man's hand rest lightly on his upper arm. "Thank you for that. At least you aren't angry at me."
"I never was angry at you," Richard says, turning back around to face the other's form. He reaches out, hesitates, and rests his hand tentatively near Till's. "I still read your poem collection now and then-" this is a white lie, he actually reads it almost on a weekly basis. "-that's all, really. I keep reading them because they're good and they're honest. More honest than I can ever be. I might not be a good father, but I am one and I... I still want the best for my daughter. You understand that."
Till nods, but doesn't give a verbal response. The younger man closes his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired and empty; he feels the sheer amount of his anger and hatred that has been weighing him down only when they dissipate to nothingness. Regret and sadness flood his heart in their place, and he's not sure what to do about it or who to direct it towards.
"I do care for you, Till," Richard says, and it's only then the sense of loss fully kicks in. But it's not even directed towards Caron, which is the weird thing. He knows that it's a strange emotion to feel when Till is right there with him, even moreso because it's really not as if they're going to be separated in the future. Richard and Till will now be working together much more closely if anything, perhaps even more than before, because they're the closest to each other in the band. So why he feels so lost is beyond his understanding.
"I know that you do," Till answers, and when the guitarist looks up he sees that the older man has the most inexplicable sadness etched into his expression. He lets one of his large warm hands caress Richard's, pausing noticeably at the guitarist's bare ring finger, before running one finger over the slight indentation left by the now-absent wedding band. It's soft, intimate, and at the same time utterly depressing. He waits for Till to comfort him, but he doesn't, and he doesn't know what he could say to comfort the older man in turn because he's been feeling sorry for himself. So they stay like that until the guitarist's head lolls back on the pillows and he falls into a deep, dreamless sleep, pretending that he doesn't care about the divorce papers arriving in the mail any time soon, about having to explain to his tearful daughter what has happened between him and Caron, about being so close to Till and at the same time so far away.
Oh well.
Life goes on. That's fair enough. If only he could actually not care about any of that bullshit.
That sounds like a really good idea right about now.
Happy tenth anniversary, Rammstein. Love you guys. If only I could love myself half as much.
-----
Divorce is a very complicated business. Although the request for divorce and the papers come through soon afterwards, it's not finalized for a very long time and Richard has to endure dozens of meetings with Caron and their lawyers during this time. At least they don't have to sit through marriage counseling, and they're certainly not forced to live together or even talk that much to one another. The complicated part of it doesn't really have anything to do with legal issues; it's really more to do with the crushing depression that comes with the fact that he is a single father again, trying to not feel as if he's failed Khira Li and all the while slowly coming to terms with the fact that he's been a terrible husband. Caron might not have been a good wife, but he could have been a much better person towards her, and in the end he completely failed at being so. A nice charming realization to have to live with. Richard is at the later half of his thirties by this point, perfectly old enough to be able to handle himself but at the same time too young to really organize his entire life into perspective and foresee where he's going.
Left in New York City, alone in his house, Richard lives a very conflicted existence. Anybody who sees him during this period might look at the man - becoming more gaunt as time passes by, working all day and getting half drunk all night, crushing out what must be over a pack of cigarettes a day - and deem him in a state of depression and self-loathing. Paul and Olli certainly tell him as much when they visit, and even though none of the others say much about it Richard knows that they feel the same and are worried about him. It is true that he's still very depressed about Caron and relationships in general, but apart from that, Richard is actually feeling quite rejuvenated and is slowly getting to grips with his own life again, even though he's still finding things rather difficult.
When not performing or otherwise aimlessly drifting around, now spends his time listening over and over to their albums and making his own attempts at writing. He doesn't think that he has half the talent that Till has, but he certainly dabbled in writing lyrics before - 'Engel' is his own work - and aiding the singer has taught him quite a lot of things regarding poetry and literature. He doesn't approach it with the mentality that it might be of use to the band some day. Rather, he writes things directed to himself, his bandmates and Khira Li. She's slowly becoming a teenager, eleven going on twelve, and beginning to grow up a lot faster than he thought she ever would. Till's seemingly out-of-character fondness towards children makes sense to him now. Khira Li's growing up to be a good girl despite all that he's put their family through, she still considers him the best father she can ever ask for, and even though she's showing hints of teenage rebellion he loves her for loving him so unconditionally. Just being able to express a fraction of these feelings on paper feels like a blessing. Perhaps this is why Till enjoys writing so much. He wouldn't be surprised if the older man had started composing poems purely as a method of catharsis.
His attitude towards their music also goes through a significant change. For the longest time Richard's been under the impression that their music has been arranged to the tune of what sounds best to all of them. While he's not wrong, he sometimes would get baffled at Till making slight tweaks to the overall arrangement (quite often in ways that would actually strain his voice further) or firmly insisting that certain parts be played in certain ways when overall the changes would not be discernable to the normal ear. He understands now that Till did it less as a method of assuming vocal control and more of a corrective measure to fit the music to the lyrics. The singer was never concerned with being able to sing comfortably in the first place - as long as it was possible to sing in concert and did not put excess pressure on the rest of the band, every song would become music and words with a soul, comfort be damned. It really does put it into perspective, how much the older man treasures words. The lyrics of one song, any song, probably mean more to Till than their entire output does to the average fan.
Every night Richard pours himself a stiff drink and sits by his desk, choosing an album at random and putting it into his CD player. It's the same one that played 'Herzeleid' for him, back then, and it seems to have an uncanny ability to read his emotional state and make whatever song that suits his mood best stand out the most whenever he goes through this ritual (though that might just be the drink talking). He only chooses one song at a time, skipping everything else until something notable comes up, and listens to it until he feels like he's extracted the most out of it for the night. This isn't just applicable to their studio albums - rough demos, CDs of their live concerts, anything goes because listening to slightly different versions of their songs make for an interesting experience.
If he can't get more out of a song from just focusing on the lyrics, he then focuses on the layers of music beneath the words, and that's when he finds renewed confidence in their abilities and how they all have worked so wonderfully together over those years. Schneider's strong and prominent drumbeats (during 'Mein Teil', in particular), Flake's countless unique contributions to their sound, Paul's surprisingly fluid backup vocals and sense of rhythm, all underscored lovingly in Olli's barely-audible but very much present bassline. And there's also himself as the lead guitarist, adding his solos and his voice to the mix. They all merge together as a solid wall of sound, breathing soul into the words, and none of this would be possible if even one of them were missing. Over the days and weeks, Richard regains his confidence and learns to appreciate his input into the band. He learns to appreciate himself, and he recognizes this development as essential to his recovery. And the more he does this, the more he feels like Till has based his poetry from not just his own life but from the lives of others, including Richard's own. It feels almost as if Till is talking to him, throwing riddles at him, endlessly enigmatic yet holding an important message in every single one.
Occasionally he hears one that seems to reflect his situation perfectly, even though it certainly didn't feel that way back in the recording studio.
"Ich habe Pläne; grosse Pläne! Ich baue dir ein Haus-"
Like that one, for example. Till claims that he wrote it after receiving one too many creepy marriage proposals from one of his fans, but to Richard it just seems like a swan song to him and Caron's so-called loving marriage. He has to laugh, really. Being alone in this house, in the country he left Germany for, really just hammers it in. Heh. Speaking of hammers.
"Welch ein Klop-fen; welch ein Hämm-ern - draussen fängt es an zu dömm-ern..."
Oh my God. I must be going insane.
But even though that really does make the point why one should never be friends with a writer, Richard is actually not at all upset about the whole thing. For one thing, Till might have really just written it from his own experiences. One must always refrain from assuming. And even if it was influenced from Richard's life, what of it? From his own point of view, it seems to be a fairly accurate view of what's happened, and it's about things now past anyway. Even ignoring that, it's a beautifully dark and powerful song, one of the guitarist's favorites from 'Reise, Reise' - good enough to be its own single. Because Till can still derive such beauty from what mostly consisted of pain and suffering, Richard doesn't feel like he's wasted years of his life on his doomed marriage. He feels as if he's beginning to heal.
I am listening, Till.
Speak to me.
And if he's lucky, his request is granted by a new hidden meaning being found whilst listening to a song. Richard treasures every single one of those realizations, writing them down on his notepad and rather fancying that he's getting to understand Till a little more, every day, every night, and for the moment that is enough.
-----
But there is always a period of calm before the storm hits.
The rest of the band have been nothing but sympathetic to Richard's plight, which sort of makes him feel quite bad when he thinks about it - he's not the only one who's gone through a divorce, and not the only one to have been involved in a messy relationship either, but he seems to be the only one completely beating himself up over it. Till is supportive of him during this period in an odd way - he doesn't really say much to the guitarist, but he helps him out with the littlest things, sometimes bringing him dinner and other times just quietly sitting with him or sharing a drink. There's not much conversation going on, but he is very much there for Richard outside of band activity - he's letting him heal - and he is grateful. The singer's also slowly starting to approach him onstage again, though not quite as often as he used to. But while he is highly appreciative of Till's support, the younger man is more conflicted than ever when it comes to sorting out his feelings towards the man.
His divorce from Caron has brought him closer to the older man, that's for certain. They've moved up a step on the relationship ladder, from good friends to slightly more intimate ones, but Richard is really not sure if this is a good thing. 'Intimate friends' doesn't translate to that kind of intimate, really, because it just means that they both know something about the other that they wouldn't trust with anybody else. Nothing to do with lust or desire. Or so Richard tells that to himself, anyway. The distant fantasy of Till's arms holding him fast against his chest and smiling at him has drfited back into his mind after lying dormant for so long, and it's come back with a vengeance. But what would he even say to Till even if that was the case?
So. Uh. Looks like I'm single again. Does this mean that we can be together now?
Of course it doesn't. Richard would laugh at the thought if it was even slightly humorous, but that's not funny at all. Talk about one hell of a rebound.
Till won't appreciate being just a rebound. Who would? The guitarist certainly wouldn't either if he were in the other's shoes.
But there's the problem: Richard feels something for Till, but it doesn't feel very much like pure romance or lust while being certainly beyond just friendship. He has no idea what to make of this. Of course he admires the singer greatly, loves him as a dear friend and almost family, but does it go beyond that?
The more he agonizes about the situation, the more it feels like he can understand his feelings towards the singer. It's not quite the desire to possess Till as his own, friend, lover or otherwise. Richard's known the man long enough to know that he can't be tied down at this point in life, as much as his heart aches at the very thought. Rather, it's the desire to stop Till, stop him before care or lack of it can touch his body, to stop him at forty-one years of age before he steps off the brink and irreversibly hurtles into middle age. To stop him before either of them get into other relationships that they know that they can't handle. To stop him as they are, right now, precariously balanced and yet closer than ever before in their shared distress and hurt.
But time is cruel in its inability to waver. Before long, they're half a decade through the new millennium and the singer is forty-two years old. Eleven years of Rammstein, the start of a new decade in the band's history, and hopefully they can manage another. But he's quite strongly doubting that at the moment - 'Rosenrot' was met with lukewarm reception compared to their previous albums, and they can't say that they're very surprised at this because the album was little more than leftovers from 'Reise, Reise'. Rammstein is running out of steam, the media whispers around them, they're going to break up any day now. Richard honestly wouldn't be surprised if that ever happened, although it goes without saying that he'll fight tooth and nail to try to stop it any way he can.
Bother. Looks like it's time for another break.
-----
Well.
It's actually a little more complicated than that.
-----
Back in their 'Mutter' days, their collective hiatus was prompted by being genuinely exhausted after their three albums. It was a burn-out period, and for most part (Richard's marital problems don't count) having a year off definitely did help, considering they had been going on for nearly seven without a break. But they've barely been working for three years this time - their second break doesn't actually have much to do with a lack of creativity or needing a fresh new sound. No, the problem this time around is a serious breakdown in communications, within and outside the band.
The main problem is that they had too much material for 'Reise, Reise' in the first place. Rejuvenated and excited for their new album, they simply ended up with so much that they couldn't possibly fit it into one single release. And it was meant to be a sort of comeback album, showcasing their harder, more industrial sound, so naturally the song selection became too biased in favor of 'Reise, Reise'; all the softer, unconventional songs got lumped into 'Rosenrot' instead. The individual songs are valuable in all of their own ways, and despite being released a year apart the two albums are perfectly contemporary to each other - but they have ended up severely unbalanced in style, actually worsening the problem. Richard can't help but think that they could have avoided all this by swapping just a couple of songs around. It would have saved a lot of angst from themselves and their critics.
That's not to say that 'Rosenrot' was a bad album. Richard spends over two weeks' worth of nights listening to every track on there as carefully as he can - the contents are somehow denser this time compared to their other songs, so it takes him a while to fully take it all in beyond what he heard in the recording studio. And this is unsettling to him because it implies that nobody but Till really understood the songs beyond the sheet music when they were practicing and recording them, and the singer pieced each layer of music together in a way that only meant something to him. But then, who can blame them, when the lyrics are at least twice as ambiguous compared to everything they've ever done?
This is really the sole downside of that album. It is far too much Till and far too little Rammstein. Their fans love him, of course, it would be problematic to not adore his powerful voice and still claim to be a Rammstein fan, but the bottom line is that 'Rosenrot' simply doesn't represent the sound of the entire band all that well due to the unfortunate choice in song selection and timing. He must be feeling terrible, Richard can certainly sympathize - as the frontman, Till might be regarding the situation as his greatest failure, resulting in a major depression. The fact that their single massive hit in the album is 'Benzin', Till's ode to fire and its beauty in its ability to destroy - and the song that most closely resembles the style of 'Reise, Reise' - is really the final nail in that coffin.
What he's having more difficulty in sympathizing with is how aggressive and bitter this has made Till, and how staunchly he's refusing to be helped by the others. Till's phobia of the stage has emerged again, but he doesn't confirm it nor seek any sort of help from anyone. The guitarist confirms through repeated performances and stolen glances that Till stares ahead in the direction of the audience when he's singing but never right at them. He certainly doesn't lock his gaze with anyone, instead staring ahead at the lights at the very back of whatever arena they're in. Perhaps the audience don't really notice - the frontmost row is still at least five meters away from the stage anywhere they go, that's far enough - but Richard most certainly does, and when he watches the DVD of Völkerball, he ends up feeling incredibly bothered by Till's half-focused gaze within a couple of songs. It certainly looks like he's paying attention to the audience at first glance, but having seen many times what Till's eyes are really like when he's properly looking at people, his thousand-yard stare is uncomfortably obvious to Richard. He'd thought Till had gotten over his phobia, because he never commented on it after the band took off - perhaps the singer believed the exact same. Richard spends a couple of hours one day scrutinizing DVDs of their filmed performances, and again he proves to be correct; the singer's gaze was noticeably more focused and he certainly was making more attempt to meet eyes with people in the front row as far back as 'Live Aus Berlin'. It's not like that now. He's not singing to the audience or even the band anymore but to himself, blankly staring into the lights and searching for something that only he can recognize within them. Soulful, but it defeats the purpose of him being part of a team if that is indeed the case. The sudden downgrade can only be linked to his depression. The younger man would be happy to help if Till would just talk to him, but it frustrates him endlessly that he won't.
And that's another thing. The older man is more voluntarily quiet these days, but unlike before when his brief periods of silence served as a break for his vocal chords, in recent times it is simply to show his displeasure with something. This is not him being his quiet thoughtful self; in fact it is more akin to how Richard would treat Caron with spiteful silence and vice versa when they were on the last legs of their marriage. Till is of course a beautiful singer and performer onstage, and delights the audience while offstage he is quiet and calming to be around; that is most appreciated, of course, after the noisiness of the performances. But beneath that Richard can't help but think that his friend is being selfish and unnecessarily frustrating, never showing him his charms and flaunting it all only for an audience that he doesn't even look at properly. Sure, he is far from being a social outcast within the band, but Richard knows that there is far more to him that he's never shown anyone else. He's seen it a few times, of course, and had liked it, but what use is knowing that and longing for it if Till won't show him any more?
Till is a very irritating man to be around sometimes. Vocalists should never be silent for the sake of getting on everyone's nerves. That's just crazy. Then Richard goes on to hate himself for being such an impatient little bastard and crushes out a cigarette or ten.
All he wants is for Till to sit close to him and pour out his heart in song. All he wants is to lose himself in that wonderful bass-baritone. Unfortunately all Till seems to be doing nowadays with that angelic voice is complaining about everything, how he hates being on stage and how he's not satisfied with the lyrics he's written months after it's been set to music. When he's not complaining, he opts for stubborn silence instead just to get the message that he's unhappy through. It really grates on the nerves; the band seems to be in a permanently aggressive mood towards each other as it is, fighting about incredibly stupid things. They're only united when working on a song that they all agree should be played in a particular way, or when they're performing. The very same stage that Till dislikes with an intense passion. Richard could tear his hair out with frustration. It honestly says something when Flake, the most cynical out of all of them, is doing the most to hold them together.
But then, he probably was the one most guarded against disillusionment all along - Flake never cared much for excess or even fame, and it'd be fair to say that he goes through life without expecting much of anything. Richard used to find that very down-to-earth at best and irritatingly pessimistic at worst, but he really has to acknowledge the other's advantage in this situation. Flake also possesses what basically equates to the patience of a rock, which really comes into play during this period when so many of the band members are reliant on him for his strict, fair attitude to everything. Richard admires him for that, but at the same time resents him for it because he's become the most stable person for Till to hold onto. Of course Till still shoves him around onstage and makes no secret of it, but he also does things like leaning gently into Flake's shoulder mere minutes later and spends time with the keyboardist quite often when not performing. Richard really hasn't been very happy with the man lately because Till's been spending disproportionate amounts of time with him. Of course that's just what it looks like, he knows that the keyboardist never was to blame for any of it, but then Richard hasn't ever been particularly logical whenever Till is concerned.
At least he can fully establish that. But merely thinking that he has a problem usually doesn't do much to solve said problem, and this time really isn't that much different. He has no idea how to go about solving it, either, and (much to his chagrin) doesn't for a very long time.
-----
"I don't think being alone for so long is good for you," Paul says, swinging his legs over the sofa and looking around Richard's living room. The younger man is inclined to agree, but doesn't respond as he pours them both a glass of gin and tonic. "you're always so far away from us and this place always feels... empty. Is Khira Li at school?"
"She is," Richard says as he scrutinizes the two glasses. "but she'll be staying with her mother tonight. Did you say you wanted yours without ice?"
"A gin and tonic is always served on the rocks, Risch!" Paul laughs good-heartedly. "what you've got there looks perfectly good to me. You do provide very good service whenever we're over - Doom doesn't offer more than a beer and even then he always gives it to you unopened, the cheeky bastard-"
The younger guitarist laughs with him as he carries over the glasses and hands one to Paul, getting a wink and a charming 'danke schön' in response. He really quite likes spending time with Paul - they are the two main guitarists of the band, after all, and they need to be in tune with one another more than anyone else, even Till. Being with the older guitarist frees him from the conflicting feelings of frustration and affection whenever he's with Till, and he's so much fun to be around that it almost makes Richard forget that they're going through difficult times. He also admires Paul's ability to actually discern band life from personal life - it was he who proposed a hiatus this time, simply putting down his guitar one day and announcing that he was exhausted, they all were, and that they really needed to take a break otherwise they would end up 'tearing each other's throats out before producing even one more song', and that he could think of at least three people in the band who would 'prefer their larynxes intact'. An unusually serious move from a man who almost appears to be childlike at times, but again, a sensible suggestion. They're about two months into their collective hiatus, and the older man has simply dropped in for a couple of hours; he's traveling with his family, and happened to be in New York at the same time. Olli and Schneider are set to come over in two weeks' time, all of which makes Richard quite happy.
"How's life treating you?"
Paul sips at his gin and tonic, looking sobered at the question. "All I can say is that taking a break has been the best thing to do. I'd almost forgotten how good it was to be able to spend an entire week and half's worth of Christmas with family without thinking about anything else. I think everyone loves me better for it, too. My girlfriend-" he abruptly breaks off, taking another sip of the drink and giving Richard a slightly abashed glance. "-sorry, that was insensitive of me-"
"I did ask," the younger man waves off the apology, although secretly he appreciates Paul for his tactfulness. "so things are going okay for you?"
"It could be better, but it could be much worse. It's getting better day by day, that's what matters. And you? How're you doing?"
Shrug. "Looking after my daughter and writing, mostly. Not much to do with songs, but just things that I feel from day to day. I'm really getting to spoil Khira Li, but I'm away so often that I figured that I should make the best of it. And-" Richard takes a deep breath, setting his glass down and leaning back on the sofa. "-I got the mail two days ago. The divorce between me and Caron is finalized now for good. No more waiting."
An awkward silence falls between them, and Richard is briefly unsure as to whether he should have even brought the topic up. But he and Paul are nothing if they can't share things like this with one another; the older man shifts over and drapes an arm around his shoulders, and this time it's not awkward at all. "I won't say that I completely understand your pain, Risch, saying that would be tactless beyond belief. I know most of us have been through one - hell, I have too - but every divorce is different, and you had it bad. But I sympathize. I really do."
"Thank you," Richard says quietly, giving Paul's hand a grateful squeeze. They smile at each other, and it feels as if the final load related to his relationship with Caron has been lifted away from his heart. It's odd how it had to be Paul out of all people who helped out, but really, he couldn't have asked for better. "I've got to move on."
"You do," the older guitarist nods in agreement, downing the last of his gin and tonic and putting it down before moving gently away from Richard. He looks around the living room again. "as I was saying... well, it's quite empty with only you around. I take it that you're not interested in a relationship right now, so soon after..." Richard shakes his head. "... just as I thought. I'm not surprised. Still, it might be good for you to have people around the place. People can't live alone for too long, it drives them crazy. Nobody on your mind at the moment?"
Till, Richard almost says out loud in immediate response, and it is only with considerable restraint that he stops himself from doing so. He shakes his head, hoping that the mortified blush on his face isn't going to give him away. Thankfully the older guitarist takes this as a suitable response and simply nods in understanding. "It's nice to be able to relax," he says. "speaking of which, do you practice your guitar while travelling?"
"I haven't played in a couple of weeks. Family would murder me if I carried around an amp and guitar everywhere," Paul laughs, seemingly very relieved at the change in topic to more familiar things. He leans back, clutching a cushion and sinking into the soft fabric. "everywhere we go there are facilities to rent some, although they can't compare to my guitars. I try to keep up whenever I can. And you?"
"Yeah. I sometimes write music and practice solos for them, too. Just for fun. Not sure if I'll ever make anything of it," Richard suddenly smiles. "well, Paul, we are the two main guitarists of Rammstein and neither of us have really practiced for a while - I've got dozens of guitars, they aren't going to play themselves. Want to have a session before you go? I mean, if your family is waiting for you to come back as soon as possible, I'd hesitate to-"
"Hesitate, schmesitate! Let's go play some guitars!"
No other prompts are needed. Within minutes they've fetched two large amps and two acoustic guitars from the guitar room, deciding to go sit back down in the living room sofa, the noise be damned. Paul takes a little while to pick out the one best for him and dutifully admires its condition ('Risch, do you use chamois leather to polish those?'). They tune their respective guitars in a sort of excited silence and play some shared riffs before looking back at each other. "Well? What song? One of ours, presumably?"
"'Los'," Paul says without a second of hesitation. "one of my favorite series of puns from Till, our eternal maestro. We'll sing it together."
Richard has always thought of 'Los' as a disguised feel-good song for them. It's one of the few that's fairly mellow by their standards, but at the same time 'Los' is also an affirmation of their shared responsibilities within the band. It's quite a good thing to sing at this difficult point in time, really. The six of them will always be part of the same band. Richard leads in with the intro first, drawing out the syllables like Till does and hoping he's doing a good job of it.
"Wir war-en namen-los, und oh-ne Lie-der-"
"Recht wort-los," Paul joins in. "war-en wir nie wie-der-"
It's strange singing it without anybody else. It's even stranger to sing it without Till's bass-baritone to lead them, but nevertheless it's a very interesting experience. Because there is less pressure to make his part fit with those of five others, Richard can actually experiment with slightly more elaborate solos during the instrumental sections, which Paul acknowledges with an approving nod in his direction. Their voices are rather lighter than Till's, but it works out. Even without Till's voice, Richard and Paul harmonize through the entire song quite well, which honestly comes off as slightly surprising to the younger man - they don't really get many opportunities to sing through an entire song by themselves, as they add mostly to the choruses.
The band are divided between feeling and interpreting the music (Till is an exception as he needs to blend the two equally into his vocals, and as he does not carry an instrument he is more physically able to act things out) - Richard and Flake are mostly interpreters, throwing their own unique additions to the main melody. For them, memorizing the music and lyrics are the main priority so that they can adjust their melody to what they feel fits the mood best. Paul, Olli and Schneider on the other hand need to feel the music deep within them - their parts consist of repeated patterns and beats, and having a good sense of timing and rhythm is of utmost importance to them. Paul is very good at what he does; as they play Richard steals glances at him, almost lying on the sofa, eyes closed and his entire body moving to the rhythm of the song. He plays almost as if the music is making love to him, as odd as that sounds. Once he opens his eyes to comment on Till's harmonica and how he wishes that the singer was actually there with them - Richard agrees inwardly, but doesn't say anything - but apart from that he simply sings along.
"Wie waren los..." he finishes off in a near-sultry whisper as they fade out, and opens his eyes to give Richard a wink, sending a message that the younger guitarist understands almost instantly. Paul jumps up from the sofa as they suddenly burst into a loud repeat of the final part of the song, punctuating each beat with enthusiastic headbanging and laughing fit to burst. They're making a real racket now, for sure, if they weren't before, but neither can bring themselves to care that much.
"Oh, my Lord," Paul gasps after it's over, setting the guitar aside and sinking onto the floor, half in hysterics. "Gott. That felt... that felt really good."
"Tell me about it," Richard answers, also short of breath from laughing so much. He sits down next to Paul, a grin on his face, having forgotten about his troubles for the time being; that is one of Paul's charms, one he is grateful for. "we needed that, didn't we?"
"Sure we did. I liked your solos especially. You never do those in concert," the older guitarist quietens down a little and gives Richard an inquisitive stare. "I've got to go in a little bit, but could I hear some of those again?"
Richard obliges; Paul's been such a good sport that he owes him that much, at least. He picks up the acoustic guitar and strums it, improvising a series of arpeggios before moving onto an approximation of the first solo he played. The older man's watching him, but he doesn't feel nervous about it; if Till had been watching, for example, Richard would have had butterflies in his stomach the entire time out of a pressing need to impress the singer. But there's no particular need to satisfy anything with Paul, there's just him playing something and the other man watching, and that's good enough. Paul requests an improvised solo, and he nods in response, losing himself in the melody and unaware that it's making him smile.
"Bravo!" Paul claps when he's finished, cheering him on. "always our trusty lead guitarist, you are! We need to give you more time on your solos. Honing your skills while we're on a hiatus, I assume?" he lets out a small 'hmm' before his blue eyes gain that knowing sparkle that he always gets when he comes up with an idea. "how about writing and actually producing a few songs while you're at it? It does sound like you've well on your way there, from what you've told me. No pressure."
"I guess so. I could start a project... it does get boring doing absolutely nothing. And I... I think I need an outlet for my music somehow. Something to keep me relaxed."
"As long as it helps you," Paul says in an encouraging tone before he gets a call from his family and bids him farewell. Richard spends the rest of the day in a considerably more lightened mood.
It started off as just that little offhanded comment he made to Paul, but as the days pass by, he finds himself clinging onto the thought of having a side project. He would lead it, produce some solo works with the lyrics and music that he's written without initial direction - something that he can do during their year of hiatus, for sure, and should there be any more breaks from Rammstein, he can always return to the project and be as creative as he wishes. It would certainly save him a lot of soul-searching during those times, along with the assurance that he has something to go back to. He even comes up with a name for it - Emigrate. An apt description of his situation, physically from Berlin to New York and serving to show its distinction from the rest of the band. When Olli and Schneider come over two weeks from Paul's visit, he pitches the idea to them, plays a few demonstrations and asks them what they think of it.
"Somewhere to put your miscellaneous input, hmm? I'd say this can work," Olli comments approvingly. "it's a sensible idea from your part."
"Das ist mein Teil," Schneider quips dryly (but with a smile), drawing a genuine laugh from both Olli and Richard, before his expression turns serious. "but you do realize that this will need explaining to the others, right? And you've considered the possibility that it might cause problems in the future? I mean, one of us might completely disagree with you, I wouldn't be surprised if this fuels Flake's constant conviction that the band is going to break up messily one day. Even if we were all fine with it, which I'm very much hoping is the case, will our fans respond well to it?"
Richard rubs his chin and nods slowly, taking all of those questions into account. "I understand what you mean, Doom. I've thought about this a lot in the past couple of weeks, I'm not about to charge straight into it, but I'm hoping to get it running. Emigrate isn't something that's really serious, certainly no competition to Rammstein - hell, I don't even really know at the moment whether I'll actually go through with it."
"Once you start, though," Olli adds in a cautious tone of voice. "be sure to be able to wrap it up properly, whenever that might be - a year or ten from now, it doesn't matter. You can't start a band and abandon it halfway. Before we got to recording our first album, you remember that we decided that should we all decide to part ways, we should break up as cleanly and on as best terms as possible. You seem quite set on what portion of your time you want to devote to Emigrate, so it's only fair that you keep to it and find people who are happy to work under your leadership under the same limitations."
It's more positive reception than Richard ever expected. He suspects that Olli and Schneider are worried about his well-being and approved of Emigrate mostly because it's going to keep him stable and somewhat occupied and happy. They can always do with one more member of the band being satisfied with their life during this rough period, and after Richard's divorce, he really could do with some cheering up. Richard knows that it'll be hard work, but even the thought of being able to manage another band, free of pressure and the fame attached to Rammstein's label, is making him feel considerably better.
Of course he's perfectly aware of how it might come across, especially after years of all six of them passionately declaring their allegiance to each other and stating that Rammstein would break up if one of them ever left. Some of his fans will like his output for Emigrate, others won't and start fussing about the future of Rammstein. But for once in his life he doesn't care about what those fans might think - Richard rationalizes that it should be partway acceptable to the band because he's not leaving and the two projects can work alongside each other. If Emigrate fails, so be it - it's an experimental side project, certainly lower down in the priority list. That is the point. He's always made it fiercely clear that the latter was, is and always will be his life - surely he can catch a break. What comes as a surprise, not just to him but to the other members of the band, is how this angers Till out of all people. Richard finds this out in one of the most unsavory ways possible halfway through their hiatus.
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