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Sock Syndrome	By : Rina76 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Tokio Hotel Views: 2480 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Bill and Tom Kaulitz, or any members of Tokio Hotel. I do not know Adam Lambert. I am not making any money from the writing of this story. None of the following actually happened.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
A/N: Thank you veyr much to zenat86 and Cinder1013 for their reviews! Sorry for the lateness of the update but hope you enjoy it anyway! Sorry if there's any weird spacing here - not sure why it's doing it...
...
Chapter 4.
Outside on the rear wooden deck of the music awards building Adam Lambert couldn’t believe his luck. He had practically been handed a written invitation to help explore Bill’s undecided sexual preference. In person! The boy’s drunkenness may have had something to do with his overly flirtatious answer but Adam was not going to let this extraordinary opportunity go to waste. With a pounding pulse he waited until Bill had almost finished his smoke before leaning in closer to the German singer, Adam putting his mouth right near Bill’s delicately-shaped ear.
“Would you like to get out of here? My hotel is right around the block. We could talk more, only without all…that.”
Adam gestured to the noisy building behind them with its raucous music, suffocating crowds of people and lack of privacy. He looked nervously and expectantly at Bill, hoping the tipsy twenty one year old vocalist understood what he was asking.

“Wanna ditch this party?”
“Sure.” Bill´s lips curled into a cocksure, only very faintly nervous, smirk. He blew out a greyish blue cloud of biting smoke and pushed himself away from the railing, flinging his cigarette into the gutter. It was a cool move, very self-assured and deviant and it actually convinced Bill that he was cool and calm and that it was perfectly normal to go back to a hotel room with a guy who had publicly announced that he had a crush on Bill.
He led the way down the chrome staircase and simply nodded to the group of musicians as they walked past them into a back alley. The dark eyes of the security followed them as they left the premises through a little gate. Bill felt like sneaking out, even though he didn´t. He wasn´t sneaking; he left because he wanted to and everyone could know. It wasn´t his fault that no one was here to watch him go. Of course they could have waltzed through the front door but then they would never have made it to the hotel, ever. Hundreds of screaming fans awaited outside, ready to scream out their lungs and thrusting up their banners, flashing their cell phone cams. So the back door it was.

Bill briefly looked back over his shoulder as they walked past a few stinking garbage bins. There wasn´t much light here and white steam came from the manhole covers.

Maybe he should let someone know where he was going. Tom would be worried.... Then Bill huffed though and abruptly turned his head back to his company. Tom had just abandoned him as well in favor of some groupie and besides it would do Tom some good to be the one to worry for once!
Still he felt a strange prickling on the back of his head, but he refused to look again. Instead he flashed a charming smile at Adam, asking in a low, curious voice, “So, the stuff you said about me in your interviews – did you mean them?”
…………
At the back door of the club, Tommy´s fingers curled around the railing a bit harder as he watched the two singers walk away for some privacy. This was so typical: as soon as some pretty faced German boy wriggled his skinny ass at Adam Tommy´d be forgotten and dropped like a hot potato!

The bassist narrowed his eyes, mouth set in a firm line before he turned and walked back into the club.
He wouldn´t have it.
…………
Tom took the green-eyed girl towards the front exit. Eyes followed them. He didn’t care who saw him leaving with a chick – it was something to be proud of and boosted his studly image, not to mention his confidence, which wasn’t anywhere near as high as he made it appear. But as he neared the doorway, he paused, frowning. Seeing Trixie’s face in the brighter lights at the entrance made him take a second, closer look. Her makeup was laid on thickly and expertly, but underneath it, he could see how noticeably smooth her skin was. Girls Tom’s age were just beginning to get fine creases at the corners of their eyes or mouth when they smiled but she didn’t have those. Her skin was soft and plump, like a peach. She didn’t have any lines whatsoever, or any other subtle signs of physical maturity. In this light she certainly didn’t appear to be in her twenties, as Tom had initially thought back inside the darkened building. Apart from the huge, well-developed boobs, Trixie actually looked remarkably young. Perhaps TOO young…
In his mind he saw the newspaper front page: ‘Tokio Hotel Twin in Underage Sex Scandal!’
End of career. Bill disowning him. Kicked out onto the streets. Broke and sleeping in his car, eating cold three day old pizza while his braids grew smelly and matted and got infested with lice.
All this flashed in front of his eyes in one awful moment. Tom decided to double check what he was really getting into here, before he wrecked his entire life.
“Wait.” Stalling the girl with a hand on her arm, Tom questioned, “How old are you?”
“Old enough.” She tugged at him. “Come on. I wanna see your hotel room!”
“How old?” He repeated firmly, standing his ground.
She huffed with impatience. “Eighteen.”
Tom raised his eyebrow challengingly at her.
“Seventeen?”
The brow went up a bit further.
She shrugged. “Okay. I’m nearly sixteen. Like it matters.”
Recoiling away from her, Tom exclaimed, “It does matter! You should have told me earlier.”
She frowned. “What, I’m too young for you now?”
“Yeah. You are.” Tom made an incredulous gesture. “I mean, shit. You’re fifteen fucking years old!”
“Fifteen and ten months,” she pointed out. “I’m almost legal.”
Tom couldn’t believe her nonchalance. “Almost isn’t good enough!”
“You didn’t think that two minutes ago, when you were grabbing my tits.” Trixie began to show irritation. “Since when do you care how old your one night stands are?”
“Since you admitted you were just a kid.” Glancing at security nearby, Tom furthered, “How’d you get in here, anyway? Fake ID?”
“I’m not a kid.” Pushing out her ample boobs, Trixie insisted, “See these? Do I look like a kid to you?”
Revolted that he actually touched those things, Tom retorted, “Just because you have a mature body doesn’t mean you have a mature brain.”
“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that?” Hands planted on her hips, Trixie glared at him with slitted eyes, showing her real nature now that she’d been rejected. “You’re nobody. Your band is nothing. Your music is crap. I’ve slept with guys far more famous and talented than you and your girly, anorexic brother who, by the way, can’t even sing in tune.”
At all those insulting words, Tom’s fist automatically curled and his shoulders stiffened with rage. He was one second away from punching her in the face. Hard. But with a great amount of effort, he heroically held himself back. There were too many people here.
Speaking through gritted teeth he said, “So, you’re underage AND a nasty slut. Thanks for the warning.”
Instead of backing off, Trixie adopted an even more offended stance, her voice dripping with scorn. “Fuck you, Tom Kaulitz.”
“No, fuck YOU, Trixie. If that’s even your real name.” Tom leaned in extremely close to the green-haired girl, letting her see the fury boiling in his dark eyes. She flinched back, only now realising her mistake.
“I don’t care if you hate me, my band or my music but you say one more bad word about my brother and I will shut your mouth permanently,” he said in a low, threatening tone nobody else could hear except her. “You think I won’t touch you because you’re a girl? Think again.”
Suddenly very afraid, as she should be, the deceitful fifteen year old whirled around and fled from him, disappearing back into the building and back into the crowd. Tom watched her go, his jaw clenched with both anger and disgust.
“Bitch,” he spat, still seething over what she said. Particularly what she said about Bill. People could say whatever they liked about Tom, he really couldn’t give a shit anymore, but when it involved his twin Tom’s defensive instincts went into overdrive and he became like an enraged papa bear protecting his cub. A couple of stalker ‘fans’ found that out last year. Now, another foolish young woman just discovered his darker, more dangerous side.
What was wrong with girls these days? Tom couldn’t work out why they were so spiteful and malicious and mean. It seemed like all the ones he’d met lately were obsessive, terrifying types who wouldn’t leave him alone, or selfish star-fucking whores, like ‘Trixie’. Dirty little tramp had most likely screwed half the artists in the room. She didn’t come to these awards for the music, that’s for sure. What gave her the right to talk trash about Tokio Hotel? She didn’t know them. She’d probably never even listened to any of their songs past the first chorus.
And another thing - nobody was allowed to mock Bill’s singing but Tom.
Sick of being at this stupid music awards thing (which was probably rigged anyway), he was about to barge through the doorway and escape to his hotel room to brood and smoke in pissed-off silence, but then Tom remembered that there were fans outside the entrance. Fans that saw him come in. Some would be waiting especially for him and would scream his name, shoving their posters and pens in his face, wanting an autograph, wanting pictures taken with him, wanting a kiss or a hug, wanting him to play the flirtatious lady-charmer he was so famed for being. Normally at events like these, he digged that kind of attention and lapped it up for all it was worth but right now, he wasn’t in the mood for being nice or flirting with anyone. Fuck that. Turning back the other way, Tom shoved agitatedly through the crowd, not heeding the exclamations and annoyed looks he caused as he roughly bumped people and spilled drinks, the braided boy arriving back at the couch he’d previously vacated, dropping onto it and slumping his broad shoulders.
“Well,” he muttered, talking to himself. “That was a complete fucking waste of my time.”
…………
Outside at the mouth of the alley, Adam returned Bill’s heart-stopping smile, steering his intoxicated young companion down a dim side street past parked cars, a guiding hand held to the boy’s lower back.
“Of course, Bill. I meant every word I ever said about you. I really do think you’re pretty. And you're clever, too. You know exactly how to dress, how make the most of your beauty, how to highlight it, without ever looking trashy. You always look elegant, edgy and…perfect.”
Adam glanced sideways at the strikingly slim singer next to him, with his carefully-applied makeup, strategically-placed piercings and artfully-sculpted fan of black, spiked hair.
“Does it bother you that I admire you so much?”
"Not really... I mean, I'm used to fangirls and even the occasional fanboy, but you're pretty famous and popular yourself. I think I'm pretty...." Bill frowned as he searched for the right word in his mind. "... flattered." Yeah, that was the word. His management hadn't been very enthused by Adam’s interest, because that brought up the gay issue again that they so carefully tried to avoid. Bill didn't even know why. They had poked him with questions a few times about his sexuality but then he and Tom (especially Tom) had gotten angry and told them to fuck off. They had given him a special interview training in case he was ever asked about the incidents and he had hated it.
Now however, he flashed a slightly coy smile at Adam, flirting with his long lashes as they dropped a bit. He had no idea where he was going, but Adam's hand on his back was warm and guided him surely through the alley. Since they had left the company of others and their curious stares Bill felt a bit surer and more free to act on his whims.
"So do you ever have wet dreams about me?" he asked curiously, stepping over an empty bottle with a concentrated look. He felt a bit dizzy.
“You ARE a wet dream, Bill,” Adam chuckled, keeping his steadying support on Bill’s spine so he didn’t trip over in those boots. “Watch your step, honey.”
He guided the kid around a corner, past a street lamp that shone down on Bill and made all his piercings gleam, and made Adam’s glitter…well, glitter. They approached a boyfriend and girlfriend walking with their arms around each other and received inquisitive glances but the other couple didn’t say anything to Adam or Bill, continuing on their way. Every now and then a car would pass by the tree-lined street but it was dark enough for the two celebrity males not to draw much attention. The older male could see his hotel, rising up from other buildings around it so many stories higher, a looming architectural structure of glass, steel and concrete. Most of the windows were lit and all had balconies. It was a very modern hotel, not one of the elegant old-style types that Adam actually preferred (because they had more character and charm) but he just stayed wherever his managing team booked him in. As long as it had a comfortable bed and a shower, that’s all he cared about.
“Almost there,” he told Bill, knowing the kid was probably dying to sit down and have another drink. “And yeah, if you must know, I HAVE actually dreamt about you. Not wet ones, but I’m always hard as diamonds when I wake up so I usually have to jack off before I can get out of bed.”
Adam glanced at Bill and smiled apologetically. “Sorry. That was probably too much information. But you asked. I must warn you that I’m brutally honest.”
After a few more street lamps, Adam nudged Bill off the sidewalk, through a couple of giant palm trees (that remarkably resembled Bill’s long, teased-up hairstyle in his younger years) and towards a semi-circular driveway with big glass doors. Uniformed valets waited at the entrance, greeting and farewelling guests, taking their luggage and parking their cars for them. It seemed busy, with well-dressed people coming and going, even at this time of the night.
“Well, here we are,” Adam announced with a flourish. “My hotel.”
"It's okay." Bill made a dismissive gesture with his hand, hastily sucking at the cigarette that had found its way into his mouth. It was quite a bit of information, but Bill had asked for it and he thought it was cool that Adam took him seriously and answered it so honestly. At least he knew what he was dealing with and he doubted that Adam would attack him from the shadows or so. He didn't need to and Bill liked honest people. There had been enough talking behind his back and show biz people were generally sleek and everybody always told them how much they loved their music even though they probably had never heard it. Opportunistic bitches...
"What are you dreaming about me then?" he tilted his head in question, smirking a bit to show that he was cool with it and flicked his cigarette into the gutter so that they could enter the hotel that accidently happened to be the same he and his band were staying in as well.
Adam waited until they had crossed the tiled lobby underneath a huge red glass chandelier before attempting to answer that. He could feel eyes on him, from the reception staff behind the long slab of polished granite that was their desk, and knew exactly what they were thinking, though they were too professional to react in any obvious way. He fully realised what it looked like. Everyone knew who he was and everyone knew he was gay. And here he was going back to his room accompanied by an effeminate young man in as much makeup as Adam himself wore, the other singer’s slender body dressed in figure-hugging (fake) leather, rings hanging from nearly every pierceable part on his face. Adam’s companion was clearly drunk; anyone could tell by Bill’s stumbling footsteps. The American Idol runner-up resisted the urge to take Bill’s arm, not sure the proud German would accept his assistance, at least not in front of other people. Bill most likely would want to avoid gossip about his already speculated sexuality. Although, it was probably a little late for that. Everyone looking at the two of them heading over to the elevators would immediately suspect what they were up to.
In general, when Adam took a man back to his hotel room for sex, that man was typically hidden in amongst a group of other people so as not to draw attention. But tonight Adam was here with only one man so there was no hiding this or the fact that they were alone together for a party of two. He didn’t know what, if anything, was going to happen back at his room but shit, if word got out about this little rendezvous the celebrity magazines would have a field day. Adam didn’t care what they printed about him as he was used to speculation and scandal already but he was concerned for Bill and the squeaky-clean reputation the boy worked so hard to keep. He wouldn’t like to read bad things being said about Bill and he wouldn’t like to think that it was his fault for bringing the kid back here.
Oh, well. Nobody could prove anything. Adam could always say they were working on a new song together or something.
Actually, Adam had seriously thought about doing that for a while now, and he would have asked Bill if he wanted to collaborate on a duet by now if only he hadn’t been so shit-scared of Bill and his super-protective brother. However, Tom wasn’t here (Adam quickly looked over his shoulder just to check) and Bill seemed in a broad-minded mood so he might broach the subject later. Imagine that. His voice and Bill’s voice, blending together in harmony, complimenting each other - his sounding strong and theatrical and Bill’s more breathy and emotive…The thought was exciting.
Almost as exciting as the thought of Bill on his bed. Not that he was going to push the kid into doing something he didn’t want to do but if Bill wanted to try kissing a male for the first time, Adam sure wouldn’t stop him.
After a few impatient jabbing button-pushes, the silver elevator doors opened in front of them and Adam ushered Bill into the mirrored cubicle, chuckling when Bill automatically checked his hair and makeup in the reflection.
“You’re still pretty as a picture, doll-face,” he teased, feeling free to flirt now that the doors had closed and they had a minute of complete privacy. As they began lifting upwards to the tenth floor, Adam found himself growing warm, incredibly aware of his nearness to the sexually alluring boy and greatly affected by the intimacy of being in the elevator alone with his lust-object. He had this wild, crazy fantasy of suddenly pressing Bill up against the mirrored wall, ravaging that gorgeously glossed mouth and playing with that sexy tongue stud while giving the kid a fast, rough hand-job, the two of them reflected on all four sides, even up on the ceiling. Adam wondered if he had time to do that. He wondered if Bill would let him…if he would like it…what kind of faces and noises the young singer would make as he came in Adam’s fingers...
Unaware of the older male’s dirty thoughts, Bill turned and looked at him with that trademark arched brow of his, still awaiting an answer to his earlier question.
“Right. My dreams.” Focusing, Adam cleared his throat. “Well, you know. They’re very…vivid. Most of the time we’re just making out. I’m always insanely thrilled that your dream self will let me kiss you.” He grinned deviously at Bill.
“But I did have this really hot one recently where you’d been with a couple of guys, one after the other, and they still couldn’t satisfy you so when they were spent I had to take over and… do that. By the time I was finished with you, honey, you were pretty damn satisfied.”
Remembering how hard he fucked naked, moaning dream-Bill while the other two dudes watched them (actually Bill's bandmates; the short blond and the long-haired brunette, not that Adam would ever tell Bill so), Adam felt his face flushing, knowing what a filthy-minded bastard he really was under his gentlemanly exterior. He should try to consider what he’s going to say before saying it out loud. By revealing that dream, he practically just called Bill an insatiable slut, or at least admitted that he found the idea a massive turn-on. God, what must Bill think of him now? Adam stared at the patterned carpet with burning cheeks (thankfully hidden by makeup and glitter), wishing the floor would collapse so he could fall down the elevator shaft and save himself this discomforting embarrassment. He wasn’t used to it. Normally nothing embarrassed him but for some reason Bill Kaulitz got under his skin in a way nobody else did.
He cared what the kid thought of him. Too fucking much.
“Forgive me if I’ve just offended you, Bill,” he muttered to the young musician next to him. “I probably shouldn’t say anymore about my dreams.”
Come on doors, Adam prayed, wanting to get out of this uncomfortably confined space already, feeling trapped and hot and in need of air. Open already!
To tell the truth Bill was a bit surprised by the frankness. He hadn't expected for Adam to blurt out his deepest, most intimate and dirty fantasy right into his face and apparently Adam hadn't either. Bill stood there in the slowly moving elevator, trying to wrap his mind around the news. It was hard to decide whether he should be offended, turned on or freaked out. Time dragged on with an awkward silence between them that was suddenly interrupted by a strange noise that turned into a suppressed giggle. Bill clasped his hands before his mouth but it was too late already. He couldn't help finding this whole situation utterly hilarious and the laughter relentlessly bubbled up in his belly, finally breaking free. He was leaning against the glass wall, using one hand to support him and laughed till tears came to his eyes and he had to wipe them away.
Adam's eyes widened in confusion at the strange, high-pitched sound beside him and he slowly turned his head around, expecting a giant chipmunk to have suddenly appeared in the elevator.
But no, it was Bill. And that squeaky, helium-infused sound was his laugh. The boy was laughing so hard, he was actually crying streaks of black makeup and trying not to fall over.
Okay...not the reaction Adam had anticipated. Though Bill's odd laugh was kind of cute, it was also kind of annoying because Adam didn't know what the kid was laughing at - him, his dream or something else entirely.
"What's so friggin' funny?" He demanded indignantly.
"I don't know!" Bill panted, trying to get some control back over his shaking body. Through the tears in his eyes he could see his face in the mirror that was all smeared and red and puffy and ugly and he should have thrown a hissy fit and tried to maintain some dignity by cleaning himself up, but instead he giggled again, laying his hand against Adam's shoulder for support.
"Sorry!" he finally managed, straightening up as best as he could, easing his expression into a serious one again. Only his lips twitch upwards every now and again, but despite his lightheadedness and the alcohol bubbling in his veins he noticed that Adam seemed to be not so amused. Bill had probably insulted him with his sudden outburst. "That's an interesting dream you had there," the singer tried to placate him, swallowing another round of giggles. And he didn't lie, it did sound like an interesting, slightly embarrassing, partly exciting dream, but it was so far away from reality... Bill had almost no experience when it came to these things, but he wouldn't tell Adam, lest the man dumped him!
Finally the elevator stopped and the doors opened with a 'bing'.
"Wanna show me your room now?" Bill asked cockily, placing a hand on his hip.
Adam stared confoundedly at Bill for a few moments before he realised the elevator had stopped and was open, waiting for them to exit. He only reacted when the doors began to close again, quickly stopping them with his hand.
"Yeah," the older man belatedly answered, indicating with a small jerk of his head for Bill to follow. "C'mon. This way."
He led Bill left down the door-lined red-carpeted corridor towards his numbered room. This floor was strangely quiet and empty, considering that most of the hotel would be booked up by musicians in town for the awards, since it was just around the block and within easy walking distance of the event. Ah, but maybe it was so quiet here because they were all still AT the awards, drinking the free drinks and making chit-chat with others in the industry. Adam normally would be one of those party-people, staying out til all hours of the morning schmoozing, but the only person he wanted to schmooze with right then was the pretty little singer of Tokio Hotel. Besides, Adam had clearly had more than enough champagne, if his loose tongue was any indication. As he retrieved his credit-card sized electronic key and stuck it in the slot on his door, Adam glanced at Bill and smiled, relieved that the kid wasn't mocking him for what he said. Bill was simply drunk and got a giggle-fit. Adam was incredibly thankful that he didn't offend the boy with his confessions because that's the last thing he wanted to do. In fact, he was glad that Bill laughed. It broke the nerve-filled tension between them and now that Bill knew all of Adam's private jack-off fantasies and didn't care, there really wasn't anything else Adam had to worry about. If Bill was really upset by what he'd heard, he wouldn't still be here.
And yet here he was.
When the door refused to open no matter how much he rattled the handle, Adam realised he'd put his key-card in upside down and quickly turned it around, rolling his eyes stupidly. Yeah, definitely too much champagne. The lock beeped twice and slid free. Opening the door for Bill, the gay male stood back and gallantly waved his guest through, Adam checking out the kid's small, sweet ass as he sauntered into the room.
"By the way, Bill," Adam remarked with a grin, locking the door behind them. "You do realise I've taken you as my prisoner?"

There were a few moments of silence, in which Bill stared at Adam with his lips slightly parted. His drunk brain frantically searched for a translation of the word 'prisoner'. When he found it he admittedly felt a bit worried. The door was locked and there was no way out and Bill doubted that he could win a fight against Adam. All of a sudden he realized that no one knew where he was, not even Tom and that if Adam wanted to rape him or something there was no one to call for help. For a moment Bill was close to a panic, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, his stomach dropping. The knowledge of Tom's absence was painful and worrisome and almost overwhelming.
Then however, part of his dazed mind saw the smile on Adam's lips; it was a bit predatory and lusty, but for the most part it was gentle and maybe even a bit shy. At least it made Bill relax and calm down. In fact, he was annoyed at himself for being so silly; he depended far too much on Tom and his strength. Bill needed to learn to be on his own, handle a situation like that without crying for his twin!
So he mirrored the smile, his lids dropping a bit, long lashes quivering. "Are you sure you can handle me?" he replied suggestively, turning and sauntering into the room slowly, hips swaying a bit as he inspected the furnishing.
…………
Where the hell was Bill?
Tom was waiting for him back at the awards, and not very patiently either. He was bursting to tell Bill what happened with the girl, to vent his infuriation on someone who would listen and understand how he was feeling. Normally, he’d tell Bill everything and Bill would share his righteous anger, gasping, bitching and cursing just as much as Tom at the end of the story. But Bill wasn’t there to talk to. He wasn’t anywhere in the near vicinity, not that Tom could see anyway, but his younger brother had to be in the building somewhere. Bill knew how much Tom worried about him and his safety and wouldn’t leave the party without telling Tom beforehand. That was like an unwritten rule between them. They always knew where each other was, or where they were going, and how long they were going to be.
Well, usually.
The older twin sat on the lounge fiddling with the black plug through his right earlobe, flicking it and distractedly twisting it around, hoping Bill would notice that he’d come back and return to sit with him so Tom didn’t look like a pathetic douche sitting on his own.
Impulsively pulling out his phone, he typed in a message with his thumb and sent it.
Dude, where u at?
He set the reply tone to vibrate, since he’d never hear it chiming in this loud din, and stuck it back in his pocket, not very optimistic about receiving an answer. First of all, he didn’t even know if Bill had brought his phone with him. Second of all, Bill rarely even used the thing and it probably wasn’t even turned on, or if it was, he’d have it set on silent mode so he wouldn’t even notice it beeping. And thirdly, if by some miracle he did have his phone on and noticed the new message, Bill could choose to ignore it completely. Tom suspected that he might have annoyed his sibling somewhat, leaving him alone on the couch while he went to make out with some cheap chick in the corner. In retrospect, that actually had been kind of bad-mannered on Tom’s behalf so he couldn’t really blame Bill if the guy was irritated now.
With a chunk of guilt settling in his stomach, Tom admitted that he wasn’t exactly the best big brother in the world and that he ought to be nicer to Bill sometimes but losing an award always put him in a foul frame of mind. Still, he shouldn’t take it out on his twin. Bill was the only one who understood him and tolerated his moods and for most of the evening Tom had barely even glanced at him. Bill had spent ages getting all dressed up and doing his hair and Tom hadn’t even told him how good he looked. Perhaps he should do that. Perhaps he should go find Bill, take him back to the hotel and be extra-nice to him for the rest of the night. They could lie in bed and talk, curling up together until they fell asleep, like they used to when they were kids. Bill seemed to like when they did that.
Of course, Tom would never admit that he also liked it - the feel of Bill’s slender, warm body cradled in his arms, gently, like something fragile that needed protecting, the soft sound of Bill’s breaths soothing him the way a mother’s heartbeat soothed an unborn child. It was only during those rare times of quiet closeness that Tom ever felt completely contented and peaceful, all his worries gone, leaving nothing but comforting warmth and serenity. Bill calmed him and after the disappointing, stressful, fucked-up night he was having Tom could really use some calming right about now.
Though they weren’t in a sexual kind of relationship, and would never be in one (despite what some those perverted fangirls wished), Tom knew for certain that he wouldn’t get as close to anybody as he was to Bill. He’d never tell anybody the things he told Bill, never reveal such secrets to any other person on the planet, never let anyone else see his private pain or catch him at his most vulnerable. Apart from their mother, Bill was the only other person who’d ever seen Tom break down and cry. And Bill was the only one who could comfort him when he did. Not just his identical sibling, Bill was his best friend too and when he wasn’t around Tom felt sort of incomplete. Like part of him was missing. Like he was only wearing one sock, or something.
Pulling out his phone, he glanced at the screen, disappointed when no new messages were displayed, Tom jamming it into his pocket again with a sigh.
Dejectedly toying with his own ear piercing, Tom’s lonely gaze wandered over the faceless, dimly-lit crowd of strangers, searching for a familiar wild black Mohawk.
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