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The Brain Is The Greatest Erogenous Zone	By : varenoea Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2543 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The hunched shape of Flake, sitting on the stone stairs in front of a little toilet house, close to a bench, at the side of the road, was obviously very busy with something.

Till approached him nevertheless and watched a little.

“Watching the ants?” he asked brightly.

“Yep”, said Flake without looking up. An ant crept around between his feet and carried a piece of stick.

“Does it march?”

“Mh-mh.”

“Pity. – You forgot your book.”

“What book?”

“I found it. You left it in the lobby of the last hotel. On the table.”

“Oh.” Flake swallowed. “That stupid book.”

Completely unrealistic crap.

“Thought you liked it.”

“Hmp. Just a lot of pretty words, but has nothing to do with real life. It’s just style over substance.”

Till shrugged. “Here it is, anyway.” He shoved it on Flake’s lap.

“Thanks.”

Till smiled a little helplessly and stood in front of Flake, who only looked at his feet. He stood there for a minute, then he turned around and went back towards the bus.

“Wait!” He turned around. “Flake, we’re going to watch soccer tonight. Don’t know in whose room, but that will show up then. You coming too?”

Flake looked up and thought about it. “Sure”, he said, smiling weakly.

“Oh, good.” Till looked relieved.

“You’re not into soccer, I believe I remember.”

“Who cares. It’s Greece against Brazil. It’s important, and it’s fun. I’ve bought peanuts.”

Flake grinned. “Sounds nice. I’m coming.”

His grin felt hollow, but it would fill up. Eventually. He was old enough to know that. And life had to go on, and there had to be normality again. And if you played normal for long enough, eventually it became true.

You’ve got friends. All the other four. Even if he brings you down. All in all, you don’t have a single reason to complain. You’re lucky. Don’t neglect your life.

“I wish you luck.” Richard firmly patted Flake’s shoulder.

“I hope we get him back in one piece”, said Olli.

“Do you get an anaesthesia?” asked Paul very pitifully.

“Fuck you all.” Flake grinned.

“What?” asked Till.

“Today I’m getting the thread bits out of my belly”, explained Flake. “I ate the seven little goats, remember? And then the mother goat came and cut me open and got out the puppies and stuffed stones into my belly, you know how that works.”

Schneider laughed. “Are you sure that goats have puppies?”

“And I will be able to shower again”, said Flake, satisfied.

“You didn’t shower for one and a half weeks?” asked Paul in total dismay.

“Yep. I’ve developed a natural protective dirt layer on my skin.”

Richard snorted. “Didn’t you take a shower yesterday anyway? I think I heard you talk about that.”

Flake cocked his head to both sides. “Yeah, but it did burn like hell. Hm. I think I’m gonna have to leave the showering be for another couple of days, even when the threats are gone.”

“Urg.” Till grimaced. “You shouldn’t do that. There’s a reason why doctors tell you not to.”
Flake gave him the eyebrows without a word.

“See you later”, he mumbled and slouched out, towards the cab that had just arrived in front of the glass doors of the hotel lobby. The others watched him go.

Another night. Another day. Another day almost over, that was. Flake was tired. Really tired. He sat between Olli and Paul and watched a boring movie. Stupid, boring movie, with absolutely no discernable action.

“You know what – I’m off to bed”, he yawned and got up.

“Night.”

“Night.”

“Night.” He closed the door and shuffled over the endless brownish carpet towards his own room. Opened the door, got out of his shirt, started brushing his teeth. Watched his own dark-rimmed eyes in the mirror.

Why, Flake, it’s almost not noticeable that you’re in love! And he started to feel al little more miserable. Wanking tasted bitter lately. Fantasies he’d had were only a source of embarrassment and heartache now.

I used to have him in my dreams, at least, but now I don’t even have that. It’s not fair.

Something knocked at the door, and it sounded like a sack of potatoes come alive and trying to reach for the handle.

Flake came to the door. “Yep?”

Some muffled sounds from the other side. They clearly came from Till. Even though the words were not, as such, discernable.

Flake unlocked the inner door. Then the outer door. After a few seconds of no reaction, he reached for the handle himself. Till slumped into the room and nearly fell onto him. Fortunately, he got a grip on the door frame.

“Tshhhhhcan’t ffffind my room”, he said.

“Three doors to the left”, said Flake acidly.

“Gotta sleep here…” Till swayed in and looked for the couch. “Got no room…”

“You most certainly won’t sleep here. Especially not when you’re drunk. You snore like a steam train.”

“’s all your fault.”

“Shut up. You’re so sloshed you won’t know a thing in the morning. I could take a pen and draw a Hitler moustache in your face, and you wouldn’t notice.”

“’s all your fault, Flake. Damn you. Damn you, you f-faggot.”

Flake grabbed Till’s shoulders with an iron grip. “You go to bed right now!” He tried to shove him out of the door, but he couldn’t do a thing against the inertia of Till’s weight.

“Damn you. ‘ssssssssssssss all your fault.” Till leaned over his shoulder. Flake stepped back, expecting him to crash on the carpet, but Till managed to get into a chair. “’cause you want to bang me. You tell me… you want to bang me. And I. I… uh.” His head slumped forward. “And you meshhhhh… mess me up. Mess up my life.”

“Get up, Till”, said Flake as kindly as he could manage. “I bring you to your room.”

This time Till let himself be pulled up, put an arm around Flake’s shoulder and staggered out of the room beside him. Three doors to the left.

“I fffeel like shit.” Till became meek. “And ‘s all your fault. That I get drunk. Wouldn’t get drunk if you weren’t… that… way to me. Faggot.” Flake fished the key out of Till’s hand and unlocked the door, trying not to crash under Till’s weight.

“Next time you call me a faggot I’m gonna chop your balls off”, said Flake, all friendly.

“Ow. No.” Till chuckled as Flake let him down on the bed, and slumped backwards. “Don’t wanna be a faggot. Fucking faggot, you.” He smiled.

Flake didn’t make his threat come true. He just shoved Till completely on the bed.

“Where are your shoes?”

“Left them. At Paul’s room. I think.”

“Fine. Give me that pullover.”

Till obediently struggled with the cloth, but Flake had to help him.

“Now”, said Flake seriously, “I want you to stay in bed and be nice and sleep.”

“Yes, mama”, beefed Till. “Fuck off. ‘m old enough.”

“No”, said Flake. “You’re old enough when you know where your shoes are.”

“Oh.”

He pulled the blanket over Till and moved towards the light switch.

“G’night kiss?” came a voice from the bed, and Till chuckled.

Flake stood there and swallowed. He couldn’t go back nor forward.

“G’night kiss!” demanded Till and pouted.

Flake came over to the bed, on his naked feet, very silently. He leaned over the bed. “Okay.” He grinned and planted a kiss on Till’s forehead.

That’s not a bad thing to do, is it?

So close, he could smell the skin. That smell he wanted. He could feel the heat. His chest ached. It felt as if it was drawn out, towards the heavy, sleepy body on the bed.

He lifted his head.

Till frowned. His forefinger jabbed into his lower lip, and he pouted at Flake.

“Thass notta real one. Here!”

It would have looked monstrous. It would have been a scene for one of the videos. But as long as Till was just a sleepy heap of bones and sweat and very little functioning brain, and of course very little pretension, it was just funny.

Flake’s heart raced. He tried to be amused, tried to be grown-up.

It’s just the drink.

He chuckled serenely and shrugged. His blood rushed in his ears, and his chest felt like it was wrapped up in barbed wire. He bent forward and pressed a very short, chaste kiss on the lips.
Then he turned around and went out, while Till curled up and mumbled happily.

So what. It was just a kiss.

At eight he knocked. He knocked a couple of times and started to worry, when suddenly the door opened, and Till stood there, in underpants and t-shirt.

“Oufrmmmmmh”, he said.

“Good morning”, pronounced Flake very clearly. “Just wanted to look if you’re alright after the drinking yesterday.”

“C’m in”, said Till and put his hand over his eyes. He got back into the bed. “Got hangover from hell.” He blinked. “What’ve I done yesterday? Anything horrible?”

Flake sat in a chair. He didn’t know how to start. It was, after all, not nice to be reminded of things like that. “You said some really nasty things to me yesterday.”

Till’s face looked dismayed. “What?”

“Doesn’t matter, really. It was only the alcohol. I’m not mad at you.”

“Flake…” Till tried to get a grip on himself. “Did I really… ask you for a goodnight kiss?”

“Yes.”

“… on the lips?”

“Yes.” Flake saw Till’s dismayed face and loved it.

“Oh. Oh shit. I was so sloshed.” Till buried his face in the pillow and came up bleary-eyed. “You know… thanks for not throwing me out of a window for what I said.”

Flake grinned with one half of his mouth.

Till looked suddenly very serious. “I’m glad that you didn’t take advantage of the situation yesterday.”

It took Flake some seconds to understand that. “Do I look like a rapist?!”

“Nooo… no. It was just… I was so sloshed, I…” Till looked at Flake. Right in the eyes. Deeply disturbed. “I really don’t know what I would have done.”

“Oh”, said Flake. “Then I let an excellent occasion slip through my fingers.”

“Yep”, mumbled Till and grinned. “No, seriously. I’m glad.”

Flake got up. This was more than he could bear. “I’m off for breakfast”, he said.

“See you later”, growled Till.

And Flake drowned his sorrow in a bowl of cereals.
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The Brain Is The Greatest Erogenous Zone