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Captivation	By : Rina76 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Tokio Hotel Views: 6307 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Bill or Tom Kaulitz or any members of Tokio Hotel and this story is a complete work of fiction; it is all made up and not true. I am not making any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 39
- 40
- 41
Chapter 40. Confessions and Apologies.
It IS him! He’s here! Bill’s here.
Not only that but he’s brought Tom with him, the bigger boy closely and cautiously following Bill like a bodyguard, the two brothers flying all the way from Los Angeles to meet me on the anniversary of their release. They’re both wearing jeans, hoodies, woollen caps and sunglasses, rendering them inconspicuous and ordinary-looking to the untrained eye, but I’d know those silhouettes anywhere – one tall, graceful and willowy, the other almost as tall but bigger, bulkier, and with looser-fitting clothing. They are carrying backpacks. The older twin stands beside Bill, defensively keeping a hand on Bill’s lower back, keeping his little brother in close range so nobody can snatch him away, just like I told Tom to do.
My pulse starts to pound, for more than one reason. My first instinct is to rush over the road and take both the boys in my arms, squeezing the air out of them in sheer joy but I must be careful. This could be a trap. Tom might still want to pay me back for abducting them. He knows how fond I am of Bill and could use his younger sibling as bait. I watch them from my private seat as they’re checking out the customers in the second café, the twins scanning the people sitting inside and gazing over the rest drinking coffee and eating breakfast out on the sidewalk, alfresco style.
The boys’ body language is apprehensive and edgy but suggests nothing to indicate that they’re part of a set-up. They don’t repeatedly glance down the street, or look across to where a police vehicle may be parked. There are no indications that they’ve bought anyone else along with them or are receiving secret instructions from tiny earpieces. If they were listening to somebody talking remotely to them, they’d be cocking their heads and frowning in concentration. Because they’re not trained in covert behaviour or undercover operations, they’d be unconsciously nodding and moving their lips as they replied. They’d be touching their ears.
They’re not doing any of that. All they’re doing is standing there, looking around. Searching for someone.
Searching for me.
Before they think I’m not here and start to leave, I step out from behind the lattice screen and exit the first coffee house, walking to the edge of the road, directly opposite the twins. After a car goes past, they spot me and freeze, the pair of twenty year olds acting confused, as if they’re not quite sure who I really am. I guess the lack of a ponytail has thrown them off. I’m wearing sunglasses and I slowly lift them up, placing them on top of my head and gazing at my ex-captives with distinctive amber eyes that would catch the bright morning sunlight. They definitely know it’s me now, the two of them somehow managing to look excited and petrified at once. I flip my shades back down and incline my head, silently indicating for them to follow me.
They do, quickly crossing the road and trailing my path down an empty side street away from both the cafés. We meet at the sliding-door side of my van, the vehicle hiding us from any onlookers. The twins seem tense as they stand in front of me, probably wondering which of my personalities is in charge – the nice one or the nasty one.
“Hello, my dear boys.” I smile welcomingly at them, proving that it is only me they’re greeting. “Glad you could make it.”
“Hi, Koji,” Bill greets me in a nervous voice. “Sorry we’re late. Our flight was delayed.”
“No problems,” I reply breezily, as if I just got here myself and hadn’t been waiting for an hour and a half already.
“We almost didn’t recognise you with the shorter hair,” the singer continues.
Self-consciously touching the feathery strands at the back of my neck, I admit, “Yeah, I was long overdue for a change.”
He nods in approval. “Suits you.”
“Thanks.” Getting to the important stuff, I query, “Did you two come here alone?”
“Yes, of course,” Bill says. “We never told anybody about this meeting. Or about you. Nobody even knows we’re back in Germany.”
The tone of his voice indicates that he’s being honest. I should know; I spent enough time making him tell the truth to distinguish the difference. “Good boy,” I praise him. “The last thing we all need is a media circus.”
“It’s so great to see you,” he reveals, sounding relieved. “Tom thought you might have been dead.”
“Well, I would have been if your brother didn’t have such lousy aim.” I pull the neck-hole of my shirt across to show the healed gunshot wound on my upper chest, just below my shoulder and beside my collarbone. “Hurt like a motherfucker, though.”
Bill cringes at the sight of my pinkish, dimpled round scar. Even though Tom must see it too, he just stands there, woodenly and wordlessly. It’s a bit hard to tell what he’s thinking or how he’s feeling with his sunglasses on, shielding his expression. He doesn’t seem aggressive, at least.
“He didn’t mean to shoot you – it was an accident,” the younger twin hastily intervenes. “His finger just slipped.”
“I figured that,” is my dry reply. “If he really wanted to kill me, he’d have come back and finished me off properly.”
“I was going to call an ambulance but Tom wouldn’t let me. It’s not that he didn’t care what happened to you.” Bill bravely carries on defending his strangely silent sibling. “He just panicked. He said we couldn’t call anyone because he wasn’t even supposed to have a gun and if word got out that he shot someone, it would be this massive shit-storm that would ruin our whole lives and…”
“I know,” I interrupt an anxious Bill. “He was scared. You both were. Thankfully, I didn’t need an ambulance. The bullet missed any vital organs or blood vessels and lodged in my shoulder. I wasn’t dying; I fell down more from the shock of impact than anything.”
I shrug, mildly mortified by my unmanly collapse. “I passed out for a minute or so and when I regained consciousness, I stopped the bleeding, climbed into the van and drove one-handed to a trusted associate of mine. Her name is Elena. She has medical training so she assessed the damage, dug the bullet out and patched me up. I would have been lying on her spare bed zonked out on painkillers by the time you guys got home.”
“So, you recovered okay?”
“Perfectly.” I lift and spread both my arms with ease. “As you see.”
In the months after my recovery I had to do some painful physical therapy to regain full use of my shoulder but I keep that to myself, not wanting Bill to feel even guiltier than he already is.
“Tom was a nervous wreck, thinking he killed you so I couldn’t stay mad at him for what he’d done. He could hardly sleep and when he did, he had nightmares. I couldn’t sleep either; I was too busy calming him down. He kept expecting the door to be kicked in by the police, arresting him for murder. As the days passed, he slowly realised that wasn’t going to happen.”
Even though Bill is revealing highly personal information about his older brother, Tom doesn’t comment or otherwise deny it, just presses his lips together tersely and lets his sibling carry on.
“Every day, we wondered if you were all right,” Bill insists, a concerned crease in his forehead. “We didn’t hear any news reports about any shootings or bodies being discovered in this area, so a couple of weeks later, we went back to the exact spot we left you. The gun was gone but there were still some bloodstains on the sidewalk.”
The elegant brunette swallows, casting his shaded gaze down the far end of the road we’re standing on. The place where Tom shot me is just around the corner. Out of curiosity, I looked there too this morning but it’s been well washed clean by the rain now.
“I knew you weren’t dead,” Bill states. “I felt strongly that you were still out there somewhere, like I could feel your presence somehow. Anyway, if you’d really died that day, there’d have been a lot more blood on the ground. I told Tom that you were alive and well, and that you were just leaving us alone, like you promised you would. I told him that you were far too tough to let one measly bullet take you out but he still felt so fucking bad about it, Koji.”
Judging by the way Tom is stiffly standing, he still does.
“I’m not angry with you, Tom, so you can relax,” I tell him sympathetically. “I know it was an unfortunate mishap. And don’t worry about the gun either - I retrieved it from the bushes and got rid of it properly for you.”
Tom’s tense shoulders slump a little as some of his self-blame shifts. “Sorry,” he manages in a mumble, hanging his head. “Never should have bought that stupid thing in the first place.”
“I said it’s okay. I survived and that’s all that matters. Keiichi didn’t, though.”
Bill frowns uncomprehendingly. “What do you mean?”
“He disappeared on the day I was shot. When I woke up on Elena’s bed a few hours after she removed the bullet, I realised my brother’s presence was gone and I haven’t heard from him since. You didn’t kill me, Tom; you killed HIM.”
At hearing this, Tom seems stunned. “I did?”
“Don’t worry, he wasn’t real,” I reply with a self-deprecating twist of my lips. “I made him up, just like you said. Kei wasn’t anything like that in reality. He was never jealous or cruel. He was the nicest guy you could ever meet and he’d want nothing more than for me to be happy, with or without him. What you saw back then, that angry monster was actually just a part of me, a part of my own shattered psyche. All that rage and violence stemmed from the unexpected loss of my twin and my own guilt over being attracted to you two. I felt as though I was betraying him and subconsciously punished myself, and you, for it.”
Even if it’s no excuse, I still have to try and give the boys an explanation for my behaviour and the cause of my illness.
“I didn’t know it at the time but I was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder – or PTSD – from watching Keiichi die and it was further compounded by having to sort through his ashes after he was cremated. It’s a traditional Japanese ritual and wouldn’t have bothered me so much if it had been an uncle or even my father who passed but to be forced to look at your own twin’s burned bones and pick them up one by one with chopsticks…”
I shake my head, trying not to dwell on the horrors of that day. “Needless to say, it was a highly distressing experience for me. Because of all that, I had too many emotions buried inside that I hadn’t properly dealt with and they manifested themselves into a dangerous dual identity calling itself by my brother’s name.”
A fresh flood of remorse hits me like a punch in the stomach and I look to Bill and Tom with all the shame and sorrow within me showing on my face. “God, you guys, I am so deeply sorry that I involved you in such a nightmarish situation. I’m so sorry for abducting both of you, for scaring you, for pressuring you into doing stuff you weren’t ready for. I was living through you instead of living my own life. I focused on your problems so I wouldn’t have to deal with my own. Instead of enlightening you, I tried to brainwash you into doing what I wanted. And I was wrong. I didn’t know how sick I was and I’m sorry for everything I did to you, truly.”
A mere apology will never make up for the terrible things I’ve done but I have to say it. It’s part of the healing process for me, and hopefully for them too. “I realise that I can never give back the four weeks I stole from you or erase all the pain I caused when I was ill, but I hope this meeting answers some questions for you and gives you some kind of closure.”
“It does,” Bill replies softly and empathically. “Thank you for telling us all that. It explains a lot. And we forgive you. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t even be here.”
“It was very brave of you to show up, believing I was still sick,” I remark in admiration. “Not knowing how I would act towards you…It was a big risk you took.”
“I knew you wouldn’t do anything to us.” Bill’s shoulder lifts in a shrug. “Besides, sometimes in life you have to take risks.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about my alter-ego doing anything crazy because it has vanished now and I’m a totally new man with my own identity, thanks to your brother.” I gaze at the braided boy next to Bill with gratitude. “I should be rewarding you for that slip of the finger, Tom. It cured me.”
Still stunned, Tom blinks behind his dark shades. “It did?”
“Granted, I’ve done a lot of work on bettering myself this past year, including seeing a therapist who diagnosed and treated my PTSD, but you certainly helped to kick-start my recovery. It was a dramatic event that caused the split in my personality so it seems only fitting that another dramatic one, like getting shot, would cause it to disappear. The voices in my head are gone, I’m much calmer and in control and I don’t abduct people anymore, not unless it’s part of my job. I’m still a Bounty Hunter but I’m not a kidnapper any longer.”
Bill’s eyebrows elevate in surprise. “You haven’t taken any other twins since us?”
“No. I don’t even want to. My interests and attractions lie in a different direction these days.”
“Oh. Do you have a boyfriend now or someone?” he asks, trying not to sound crestfallen.
I snort. “Are you kidding? Who’d accept a weirdo like me?”
“But you said you were cured now…”
“Of my split personality, yes. But I still have other issues that I’m working on. For starters, I am kind of obsessive and compulsive. I’m also a loner and dreadfully anti-social. I have no friends. I know some other Bounty Hunters in the business but I wouldn’t call them actual friends, just acquaintances. My job takes me away from home for long periods of time and nobody would be bothered waiting around for me to get back.” I make a dismissive motion. “Anyway, I don’t have the patience to get to know anyone new. I don’t even like the idea of casual sex, let alone dealing with somebody’s emotional demands on a regular basis. I live and work independently and prefer it that way. That’s why I don’t have a boyfriend or a partner. To be frank, I haven’t even touched anybody after you.”
The slim singer seems astonished at this news. “You haven’t slept with ANY other people since we left?”
“Nope. You guys have totally ruined me for anyone else, I hope you know that.” I smile wryly while the twins glance at each other, trying to figure out what I mean. “I highly dislike it when anybody tries to get close to me or strike up a conversation. I hate speaking to people or telling them anything about myself and I have no interest in hearing their life stories, either. Honestly Bill, the only people I am comfortable talking to or being around are you and Tom. You pair are the closest I’ve had to real friends since my brother died.”
“We’d like to think of you as our friend too. In fact, we were going to offer to pay for your treatment,” Bill informs me bashfully. “For your Identity Dissociative Disorder. That’s what they call a split personality these days. I looked it up and it can be treated successfully by specialists. We wanted to help you…But I guess you don’t need it anymore.”
“That’s a very sweet thought, Bill. However, I would not have accepted your money or your help. My pride would have prevented that and treatment was something I had to seek for myself.”
“Well, I’m really glad you’re better, Koji,” he says, smiling as if he knew all along that I could beat my demons.
“Thank you. I’m glad too.” Indicating to the street behind us, I offer, “Would you like to continue this conversation over coffee? I’m buying.”
With a short shake of his head, Bill returns, “Thanks, but no. There are too many people out there; someone might recognise us or listen in. We’d rather speak to you alone. Here is fine.”
He glances at my van, the large vehicle with its tinted windows providing a solid black wall for us to stand behind and talk without being seen.
“As you wish.” I remove my sunglasses and gaze at the two musicians before me. “Take yours off too, boys. I want to see you properly.”
Bill complies, folding his designer shades up and slipping them into his bag, shyly glancing at me with kohl-rimmed eyes. He’s still putting on mascara and ebony eye shadow but he doesn’t look the same as when I last saw him. The shape of his face used to be rounder, softer, more boyish. Now it’s a man’s face, all sharp lines and angled edges. His hair is a lot shorter than it used to be, the sides shaved for the Mohawk but he doesn’t have it styled today, his trimmed locks tucked away into a woollen cap. For all his changes, he’s still beautiful. Still pretty. Still Bill.
Tom, whose facial structure has also sharpened somewhat, takes off his sunglasses like I requested, hooking them into the neck-line of his hoodie. The thick blond dreadlocks he used to spend so much time taking care of are gone – in their place are sleek raven braids which emerge from the knitted hat he’s wearing and hang past his broad shoulders. His lip ring is not silver stainless steel anymore but black titanium now, matching the stretching devices in his earlobes.
They both look at me at once and I suck in a breath of awe. God, I’d almost forgotten how their eyes are so mesmerising. Even more so today than they were twelve months ago, their twin gazes hypnotically deep and dark, holding much more knowledge, awareness and experience than they had previously. They were mere teenagers then. Now, they’re men of twenty years. Now in those eyes I see self-reliance, personal growth and strength. However, in those velvety chocolate orbs I also see an overwhelming amount of misery and unhappiness. There are murky half-circles beneath their lower eyelids, like old bruises. Bill has lost an unhealthy amount of weight and both twins seem drained, jaded, fatigued and flat. They seem incredibly worn-out. I know what that means because I’ve suffered from it myself in the past.
Depression.
I don’t know if they’re both depressed or just one of them is and the other is mirroring the condition. I’m not sure if Tom’s miserable because Bill is miserable, or if Bill is distraught because Tom isn’t well but neither of them seems right. They’re still striking, determined young adults whose careers are still heading in a positive direction but in spite of their achievements and successes they each seem to have lost their inner sparkle, their energy. Their fire.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but fuck, you guys look awful,” I exclaim in concern. “What’s wrong?”
They exchange glances in unspoken communication.
Beginning to feel responsible for their sorry states, I ask them apprehensively, “It’s not because of me, is it? Did I screw you up too much?”
Tom is the one who answers.
“No. Okay, a little bit,” he admits, “but it wasn’t ALL you. There were a bunch of psychotic stalkers following us around and breaking into our house and whatever. One day they cornered me in my car and I just fucking lost it and...” Breaking off, he bitterly concludes, “Let’s just say it was a very shitty time for me.”
“For both of us,” Bill adds, giving Tom a protecting look. “This fame thing? It’s invasive and we’re sick and tired of it all. We can’t be ourselves and have to put on an act all the time. Our pictures are always being taken. We’re constantly harassed and hunted and spied upon. Everywhere we go, we feel eyes on us.”
Ashamedly, I swallow before revealing, “Actually, guys, I have a confession to make. Some of those eyes were mine.”
There’s Bill’s perplexed frown again. “What do you mean?”
“You know how you thought you could feel my presence? Well, you were feeling it because I WAS there. I’ve been around you both many times over the last twelve months. Never in your home, of course, but at performances, media events, autograph signings and such. Even Halloween.” To Tom I prompt, “Remember the guy at the party in the cool Samurai costume?”
As the memory registers, Tom’s mouth drops open. “Dude, that was YOU?”
I shrug sheepishly. “Guilty as charged.”
Dismayed at missing a chance to speak to me, Bill scolds, “Oh, Koji! Why didn’t you fucking say something? Why didn’t you at least come up and say hello?”
“I didn’t know how you’d react. Tom told me to stay away from you both and I didn’t want you to freak out or start calling for security.”
“We wouldn’t have done that,” the younger twin insists. “We would have been GLAD to see you. If we had your phone number, we would have called ages ago to check up on you but you never gave it to us. Or your email. We had no way of contacting you but you could have contacted us.”
Tom joins in, his tone accusing. “Yeah man, you could have at least let me know you weren’t dead. Would have saved me a lot of damn stress.”
Realising that he hadn’t been quite as okay without me around as I’d believed, I belatedly apologise, “I’m sorry. I should have told you I was all right instead of just watching you like a stalker. Sounds like you already have enough of those.”
“We don’t mind if it’s you watching us,” Bill generously grants. “But when the whole world is…it’s too much. We just want everyone to leave us alone but they won’t.”
He grips the strap of his bag with feminine fingers, gazing at me with pleading eyes.
“That’s why we came back, Koji. You can help us. You can hide us. You can take Tom and me away from all this, at least for a little while. It’s the only way they won’t find us.”
I stare at them for a few moments, trying to comprehend what they’re saying, a knot of alarm and disbelief growing in the pit of my belly. “Wait…Are you telling me…Do you actually WANT me to abduct you again? Is that what you mean?”
“Yes,” they answer in perfect unison, glancing at each other for confirmation before looking back at me, waiting for my reply.
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Captivation