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The Sea Will Guide You Back To Me	By : BurntToasties Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Tokio Hotel Views: 2178 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: "Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction! I do not know Tokio Hotel, and I do not profit from these writings.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
The next morning I awoke feeling much better than I did that night, thanks to Bee taking my mind off of everything. I yawned, grabbing my towel and toothbrush and headed into the bathroom. I switched the water on, brushing my teeth while the water heated. I spit out the foam, stepping into the warm water and beginning my shower. I closed my eyes, feeling the water run down my body and wash away the sleep that was still clinging to my eyes. I worked my shampoo through my hair, a special blend I concocted back home. It had dandruff control because I was constantly worried it’d show up, and straightening properties, to work out my unruly wavy hair. I rinsed it out and added the slick conditioner, washing my face and body before rinsing head to toes. I switched off the steamy water, wrapping the towel around my waist and skipping the mirror on my way out. I could already feel my hair beginning to curl up around my shoulders, and quickly ran a brush through the thick locks. I walked back into the bedroom, tying my hair up with a scrunchie so I could get dressed. I pulled on a simple black cashmere sweater and jeans, heading back to the bathroom. My hand went to twist the doorknob, but it didn’t budge. This fact registered a second before my body could stop, and I hit the door hard with my full body. I heard a burst of laughter from the other side of the door, and I sighed.
“Buick damnit, I need the blow dryer!” I shouted, fists hitting the door.
“Too bad!” She said with a laugh, turning on the shower and ignoring my protests. I sighed, taking my towel and running it through my loose hair, trying to absorb as much moisture as I could. I rifled through my suitcase, pulling out my hair products and running each through my hair deftly, like I always did. I sprayed some hairspray into my hands and ran it through my hair. It tamed out my relatively dry curls, and I knew they’d be manageable the rest of the day. I clipped back two front pieces, making a band around to the back of my head. I sat on my bed and pulled on my shoes, blue and green plaid slip-ons, and went downstairs for breakfast. No one else seemed to be up, so I pulled out some potatoes and began to peel them, dicing them quickly as a skillet heated up on the small stove. I tossed the potatoes in, and as they cooked I poured myself a glass of coffee, adding the perfect balance of milk and sugar before taking a sip. By the time Buick came downstairs, the potatoes were done and I handed her a plate. She smiled, taking it and shoveling a forkful into her mouth.
“Oh my god. I see why you want to be a chef. These are marvelous!” She said through a mouthful of food. I smiled, taking a bite and chasing it with coffee. We finished the potatoes and grabbed our jackets on the way out. We drove to the closest shopping district and parked, walking through multiple clothing stores. We looked for dresses, then decided against it, and finally gave up trying to guess.
“I don’t know what we should wear, give me a second?” Buick said, pulling out her phone and quickly punched in numbers.
“Hallo, Gustav? How are you? I had a question since I’m shopping for Mina, she’s horribly fashion challenged,” she said. I shot her a glare, looking down at my wool coat, nice sweater, and snug fitting pants. I didn’t look that bad.
“Yeah Bill asked her to the EMA’s. What should I get her to wear? Not jeans, but not fancy. In between,” she said, thinking. Then laughed and hung up the phone.
“Bill says think semi-formal. Not too nice but not pajamas. And Tom says nothing would be perfect,” she said with a smile. We walked into a small corset shop, and were stunned instantly. They had plain dresses, sure, but the corseted outfits were beautiful. We were in there for hours, me trying on nearly everything they had. At one point I heard Bee’s phone ring and her leave, and I walked out of the changing room to see where she had gone. She was outside, not really focusing on any point. She smiled, then made a high pitch noise I’ve rarely ever heard from her, before she hung up and ran inside.
“Gustav invited me! I’m going with you guys to the EMA’s!” She nearly shouted, hugging me. I smiled feeling happy I’ll have someone else there other than the band. She began trying on outfits, and I went back with a final red silk dress. We came out at the same time and knew we had our clothes. Buick wore a grey halter corset top with a high-waisted black satin pencil skirt that had a small ruffle around the bottom. My dress was a red, strapless dress with corseting up the back, and a layered skirt that flared out when I spun. We quickly changed and purchased the outfits, grins that can only be matched by little kids meeting Mickey Mouse for the first time. We walked out of the store and headed to back to the car, as we already had enough shoes there was no way we’d be buying more. We had barely hit the parking lot when someone shouted my name. I turned to see a girl, running across the lot after us, waving a magazine. She stopped in front of us, looking at the both of us, before holding out the magazine.
“That is you, is it not?” She asked, pointing to the picture on the front. We looked, and saw a picture of the two of us, with Bill and Gustav, at the cemetery. I nodded, and she slapped me.
“Bill can do better than some American girl who can barely call herself German,” she said, storming away. I stood there, stunned. Bee picked up a small chunk of loose asphalt, and with deadly accuracy, threw it at the girl and hit her in the back. She turned, glaring at us.
“She’s more German that you’ll ever be you two faced cow!” She shouted, and we both went to the car. We got home around noon, trying to pick up our moods after the exchange in the parking lot. There wasn’t much we could do other than sit and plan for the awards. The next two days we spent doing trial runs for our hair and makeup, deciding on appropriate styles. I settled for leaving my hair in loose curls with a slightly smoky eye shadow and pale lips, Buick settling on a dark grey eye shadow and cherry lips, her hair looping into a bun in the back. It took us hours to figure out how to work her hair, and smiled once we got the style we wanted.
By Friday, everyone knew who Brianne and I were, and made our family outings hell. The usually mundane and bland trips we did every year became hassled by people spotting the two of us and asking us questions about Tokio Hotel. Eventually the press began to find us as well, asking us personal questions and following us around. On Friday afternoon, Bee and I had opted to stay behind so our family could go out to the museums without being bothered. We sat on the couch and watched the small selection of movies my grandmother owned, sharing a plate of carrots and grape tomatoes. I had made us some vanilla laced hot chocolate, which we were sipping at when my phone rang.
“Hello?” I answered, taking a sip.
“This has been the hardest three days for me. I saw you on the news again, refusing to answer questions about your life. Our publicist says you did excellent,” Bill’s excited voice chimed over the line. I felt the biggest smile come over my face.
“So when are the EMA’s and what are we doing?” I asked. Bill laughed.
“The EMA’s are on Sunday, and Tobi thinks it would be best for you two to stay with us tonight and tomorrow so nothing bad can happen to you two. Is that ok?” he said. I turned to Buick, and smiled.
“Is it ok for us to stay with Tokio Hotel for the next two nights so we don’t get killed by avid fan girls?” I asked her, hearing Bill laugh at my phrasing.
“Hm, no I think I’d rather stay home and be stabbed by teenie boppers with sporks,” she said, giving me her classic eye roll.
“Yeah, we’ll be staying with you guys,” I said, and I could almost hear Bill smiling.
“Good, because if you said no, Tobi was going to kick in the door and take you anyways,” he said, and just before I could ask what he meant, there was a rather loud and heavy knock on the door. Buick opened it to see the giant Tobi and Gustav next to him. I saw Bill behind the two, with the phone still up to his ear.
“Hey, I have to go, there’s a bunch of salesmen at the door I have to get rid of,” I said, hanging up and walking over to him. He threw his arms around me in a tight embrace and kissed me gently.
“So, you have your things packed and ready?” He asked, five minutes after Bee and I had run up the stairs to grab our outfits and makeup. I had it all packed neatly in a garment bag and travel case, while Buick had her makeup and hair products in a grocery bag and her clothes and shoes in the same bag from the store.
“Yeah, we’re ready,” I said, grabbing my long coat and heading out to door with the small band of boys. We packed into the five-person sedan, Bill with his arm around my shoulders and trying to sneak a peek into my garment bag at my dress.
“No, you can’t see it until Sunday night,” I said, moving it away from him. He pouted, then smiled.
“So, Tobi’s plan is to have Gustav bunk with Georg so you two can share his room at the hotel. We’ll be leaving by 3, so we’ll be getting ready all morning. We hit the carpet at 4:30, and the whole ceremony starts at 7, giving everyone enough time to get some publicity in before the show. We perform at 9, and our nomination is at 8:30, just before. You’ll be sitting with us of course, and if anyone so much as thinks about harming you, Tobi will be on them,” he said, giving us the rundown. I nodded, trying to retain the information as well as plan out our morning so we can have enough time to get dressed. Gustav nodded from the front seat, twisting to face us in the back.
“And we have a surprise for you, but you won’t be able to have it until Sunday,” Gustav added, placing his hand in Bee’s. She smiled and squeezed his hand, getting a small smile from him. We drove in relative silence for what seemed like hours, Bill attempting to sneak more peeks at my dress over the course of the drive. Finally the car came to a stop in front of a hotel, and we stepped out. I looked up at the towering building and was amazed by the beige structure.
“Where are we?” I asked, noticing many of the signs were no longer familiar to me.
“We’re in Frankfurt. Tomorrow we fly over to France for the awards on Sunday in Paris,” he said, leading me by the hand through the rotating door. We were immediately surrounded by reporters and fans alike, questions flying at us like bullets. Bill answered a few that were along the lines of ‘How are you’ or ‘Are you staying here’. I took his lead, but figured that telling them I was not staying here was the better way to answer on my part. He shot me a quick smile as Tobi intervened, blocking everyone back from the elevator door, Bill, Gustav, Bee and I ducking under his tree branch arm to the small metal box. the door shut as a few people snapped pictures and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
“You two did great,” Bill said, Gustav nodding. “How did you know to tell them you weren’t staying?” he asked. I shrugged.
“It just seemed logical. If I said I was, they would assume we’re sharing a room and things could only get more entertaining from there,” I said, giving him the honest answer. Gustav laughed.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been through this before,” Gustav said, rubbing Buick’s back. Bill laughed, kissing my cheek. Our elevator stopped at the fourth floor, and we walked down the halls to our flock of rooms. We easily guessed which ones they were, hearing guitar and bass and loud, out of key singing coming from one. Bill swiped the key, opening the door to see Tom in his boxers, guitar looped around his neck, jumping on the bed as he sang On The Edge way off key. Georg was singing as well, sitting in a chair with his shirt off and in pajama pants. I tried to hold back a laugh the best I could at the scene, Bill not really noticing as he went to the desk and grabbed a stack of keys.
“Tom, you know your voice is a key lower than mine,” Bill said over his shoulder, shutting the door just as something hit it. “Probably a shoe. Or a hat,” he added as I raised an eyebrow. We walked up two doors, and he handed us our key.
“Here you go, room 483. If you need anything, Tobi is next door and I’m in with Tom,” he said, holding the door open. I went to walk passed and he kissed me, pushing me against the door, my hands instinctively holding on to him. His smile broke out lips apart, but our bodies were still pressed up against each other. I smiled, and Bee came out of Gustav’s room, with their arms around each other’s waist.
“Bill, I’ve got a better idea,” he said, Buick giggling as the two boys walked inside the room, shutting us in the hallway while they talked.
“You’re here with him five minutes and already you’re getting our rooms switched?” I laughed. Buick shot me a wide grin, and the boys came back out.
Gustav winked at her, taking her hand and helping her off the ground and back into his room. Bill smiled at me, taking my hand.
“We’re telling Tobi you two are still bunking together, but he’ll check on us twice- once before we sleep and once in the morning,” he said, pulling me inside and shutting the door. I smiled, putting my arms around his shoulders. He kissed my cheek, pulling me onto the bed. We sat there, happy just holding each other, when the phone rang. I reached for the phone from across Bill’s lap, and picked it up.
“Hello?” I said, feeling Bill’s hands roam over my back.
“Hey, its me. News is showing us and it’s not good. Check it out,” Gustav said before hanging up the phone. I set it back down on the cradle and turned the TV on to the news like he said. We were greeted by a Blonde male newscaster, and a picture of me from nearly three years ago. I felt the blood drain from my face, and knew this would not be pleasant.
“Bill Kaulitz, lead singer of band Tokio Hotel, has been seen recently with American Marina Fischer, 19 of a suburb area outside New York City, who was involved in a DUI and fatal crash three years ago,” he said, and footage from the scene three years ago played, showing me being pulled from the fiery wreck of my friends car, while three body bags were lying on the side of the turnpike.
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The Sea Will Guide You Back To Me