Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

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
- 5
- 6
- 7
This chapter is dedicated to a lovely friend of mine, Luna. It’s a belated birthday gift so I hope you enjoy it, Luna, because I put in a special bit just for you! :D
Lots of thanks to Schwaerze/BMIK/Superkalifragi for the fast beta! Love you! xxx

Eien_no_Ren, thank you for your review! I'm really happy that it has you riveted! ^__^
Everyone, please enjoy this update and any comments you choose to make will be gratefully accepted.

.........
Chapter 6. Family Feud.
Bill and Tom both stare at me in shock. Now I have their full attention.
“Bull shit,” Tom whispers, not wanting to believe it. “You’re not a twin.”
“Indeed I am. Or I was. Here - take a look at these.” I collect the large envelope I’ve had sitting on the table this whole time and empty it. Polaroids fall out like a deck of cards. All of them are of my brother and me, mostly from the 1980s and 90s. Bill snatches up a handful and shuffles through them, his mouth open with disbelief. Tom doesn’t pick any of the photos up, distrustfully eyeing them off where they lay, as if I’ve emptied a pile of dead bugs onto the table and some might still be twitching.
“Tom, look!” Bill gasps, showing his older sibling some of the glossy coloured squares. “Look at these! See? Koji had a twin brother!”
“No, he didn’t. He’s a fucking liar and they’re fake pictures. He’s just trying to falsely gain our sympathies so we don’t hate him.” Tom glares at me with venom. “It’s not gonna work, by the way. We already hate you.”
Bill glances between Tom and me in confusion, unsure as to whose word to take.
“I’m not making this up. Tom, you were going to be a graphic designer once. You know as well as I do that you can’t Photoshop Polaroids. The moment you start tampering with them, they’re destroyed.” I slide a couple of the white-framed pictures towards him. “Look closely. You’ll find they are original and have not been retouched in any way.”
“Is that true?” Bill presses with wide eyes, seeking Tom’s confirmation. “You can’t fake Polaroids?”
Briefly examining the instant photos front to back and noticing the old scratches and fingerprints on the surface of the film sheet layers, Tom grudgingly sighs. “No. You can’t.”
“So, these are real?”
“I guess so.”
An outwitted Tom lets the photographs fall back onto the table and shoves them away like he doesn’t want to touch them, as if they’re dirty or obscene. There are no sexually suggestive shots or images of porn in there, only innocent happy family snaps – some of my twin and I as children and teenagers, and some of us as young adults, just doing general, everyday things like celebrating our birthday, playing in the ocean or posing in our new Judo suits, but they still seem to disturb Tom anyway.
Bill keeps gazing at one of the pictures – one of my favourites – where my brother and I were on our first day of a holiday around Sweden. We’d just graduated from college and were taking some time off before we joined the workforce. It was winter and we were wearing gloves, knitted hats and big puffy jackets to keep warm in the snow. We asked a random stranger to take a picture of us on the street in front of a spectacular icicle-covered tree. We cuddled up close for the photo, putting our arms around each other, and my brother pressed his cold cheek up against mine. We were both elated and excited to be on vacation together in a foreign land. In the picture he looks so beautiful; his cheeks flushed, honey eyes sparkling, soft dusky-rose coloured lips parted in a smile so warm and radiant it could have melted the snowflakes caught in his long golden-brown hair. He looks so joyful and vibrant and alive, so full of life. That’s how I like to remember him.
Not pale and still and utterly…empty.
“What was your brother’s name?” Bill asks.
“Keiichi,” I reply in a quiet tone. “It means: ‘first son’. My name, Koji, means: ‘second’. I was born fifteen minutes after him.”
Like Bill was, born second, only ten minutes after Tom. I can see him thinking that, just as Tom is, judging by the meaningful glance they exchange.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” the younger one ventures in a careful, respectful manner, “what happened to him?”
For a moment I don’t think that’s relevant and am tempted not to answer Bill. But then I do, simply because he asked me and because he seems genuinely curious and concerned. Besides, he answered my questions. If I want him to trust me, I have to show some honest openness too, even if it pains me to talk about my past.

“One day we were training in our home gym, sparring. We weren’t even training that strenuously but he suddenly stumbled, told me he felt weird and then fell to the ground unconscious. He was dead before I could even call an ambulance,” I state bluntly. “He had a faulty valve in his heart. It simply stopped working. Neither of us knew about this fault and it was only discovered during his autopsy. I got my heart checked out but I don’t have it. We were identical in every way except that.”
My lips twist humourlessly into an imitation of a smile. “Isn’t fate a fucking bitch?”
Tom and Bill are hanging on my every word. Bill in particular seems more affected by my tale, his velvet-brown eyes filled with sympathy and empathy for what I’ve been through.
“I’m so sorry, Koji,” he softly offers, handing me back the photograph. “It must have been very hard for you.”
I nod, both accepting his compassion and affirming that it had indeed been difficult to lose my only brother in such a sudden and tragic way. I didn’t even have time to say goodbye to him.
“It was like having my soul ripped out,” I quietly admit, collecting my pictures and putting them neatly back inside the envelope, arranging them in order of date and year. “We were as close as two people could ever get, like two halves of an orange. Together, we were whole. We were made for each other; we were perfect together and nobody understood us or our connection like we did. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You feel the same way.”
I set the envelope aside and gaze at the pair of teens seated across from me. “Nobody can comprehend the strength and depth of the bond that twins share unless they are a twin themselves. And that’s why you’re here. I want to help you boys deepen your bond, to love each other utterly and wholly, without shame, without guilt or any of the taboos society has imposed on you. Who are they to say such love is wrong?”
I shrug.
“Because it’s not. It’s the most natural thing in the world. You were born with your soul mate and you should be free to be with each other openly and honestly, the way my brother and I were. There were no secrets between us. There was nothing between us. At least not behind the closed doors of our bedroom.”
“You…you slept together?” Bill whispers, sounding shocked. “You actually were having…?”
“Yes. We were lovers. We’d been in an intimate relationship since we were fifteen years old,” I candidly confess. “What my brother and I had, and what you two most likely have, is something psychologists are calling GSA. Genetic Sexual Attraction. It’s where you develop strong sensual and erotic feelings towards a blood relative – usually brothers and sisters, or parents and children, but it can happen to uncles and nieces, or old ladies and their grandkids. These people can act on those feelings and have sex with their own family members. It’s quite real. I’m not making this up,” I affirm, reading Tom and Bill’s disbelieving expressions.
“Generally it happens after two blood-relations have been separated for many years and then reunite, causing a flood of buried emotion, which is then expressed in a sexual manner. Like when an adopted child meets its real parent, or when somebody discovers that they have a sibling they never knew about. But I think it can also be triggered by other significant life events too, such as extreme stress, illness or the death of another family member. It doesn’t just happen for no reason - something always triggers it. GSA is often referred to as a ‘condition’ which implies that it’s some kind of sickness to be cured or something unhealthy that needs to stop. Perhaps in the case of fathers who fuck their daughters or mothers who sleep with their sons but with twins it’s different. Twins are special. Twins are meant to be together. At least, I believe so.”
My tone softens. “When Keiichi and I made love, it was beautiful. Perfect. Right. Two souls, merging as one, the way we were in the womb, before our cells split apart. Total unity and harmony…”
I trail off, my eyes going distant as I remember the feel of my brother’s silky lips on my face, his tongue sliding up my jaw, the warm brush of his breath in my ear as he told me how much he loved and needed me. A thrill runs up my spine, the way it would when his free-flowing hair – the exact colour and length of my own - swept over my naked skin like burnished satin, his lean male body fitting perfectly against mine, our arms and legs entwining until we were as close as could possibly be. Flesh melting into flesh, fingers linking, mouths joining and opening to drink each other in like water until he was inside of me and I was inside of him – no longer two doubles, duplicates or doppelgängers but a single living organism with only one heart, complete and fulfilled, needing nothing else but that dizzy, delicious sense of absolute wholeness.
Returning to the present, I look to Tom and Bill - the two of them legally of age, able to drink, smoke and drive but still so innocent and uncomprehending of the private pleasures they could share together.
“I can’t be with my twin anymore but for you guys it’s not too late. You’re young, you’re healthy, you’re successful and have wonderful lives. But life can be so much better, so much richer and more rewarding. I can show you how. Too many twins take each other for granted, always expecting that they’ll be there, not cherishing the little moments they share, not appreciating what an incredible gift they have been given.”
“We don’t take each other for granted,” Bill protests. “We appreciate each other.”
“Not in the way I’m talking about, you don’t,” I emphasise. “But when I’m finished with your lessons, you will. You will realise exactly how deep your love goes. You will know that it is endless and fathomless, like time, like space, like the entire universe. You will know what true rapture and ecstasy is. You will know that you don’t need to look elsewhere for completion because you can only find it within each other, like two suns colliding and exploding together to create a new entity of fire and radiance and brilliance!”
My voice has risen passionately, like a preacher at Sunday service getting to the really good part of the sermon. I lean forward over the table, my amber-gold gaze bright with fervour.
“And once you’ve felt that brilliance, my dear children, felt yourself scorched and burned by its magnificent blinding power, only then will your unseeing eyes be opened. Only then will you understand. Only then will you thank me for what I’ve done.”
Speech over, I lean back in my chair, observing them. The boys are staring silently at me, like I’m some crazily possessed religious leader trying to recruit them into my bizarre cult.
“You’re insane,” Tom finally declares, confirming their thoughts. “You’ve totally lost your mind, man.”
“No, just my brother. My best friend. The one person I loved more than anything else on the planet.” Starting to get angry at Tom, I counter, “You have no idea what losing your twin can do to you! You still have yours. I don’t. Imagine if you lost Bill in a sudden car crash. Imagine if he died and you were left all alone. Imagine if you saw his cold, dead corpse lying on a steel table in a morgue. Are you saying that it wouldn’t fuck you up? You believe you’d still be the same afterwards? Think about that before you criticise me, you judgemental little prick!”
It seems my emotional outburst has gotten through to Tom because he shuts his mouth, although he keeps staring at me. I try to calm down, reminding myself of why I’m doing this, why I’m reliving such tremendous pain in front of people who can’t comprehend it or the enormity of its impact.
“Life is precious, Tom. HE is precious,” I stress, gesturing to Bill’s small, seated figure beside him. “You should show your brother that as often as you can because one day he might be gone and all the light vanishes out of your world forever.”
Here I flatly click my fingers. “Just like that.”
The resulting silence stretches on. I don’t think either of the boys knows what to say now, glancing at each other and then down at the floor, avoiding my eyes. I decide that’s the end of the session and abruptly head over to open the door.
“Get up. I want you to go back to your room and think about everything I’ve just told you.”
“Why, is there gonna be an exam on it later?” Tom grumbles, pushing back his chair with a scraping sound. “It’s not like we care or anything.”
“You will if you want to make it home in one piece. Now go,” I order, pointing down the corridor.
“Yes fucking sir,” he retorts, stomping past me and bringing Bill with him, making sure to keep his little brother out of reach of my evil clutches.
I follow the kids down the hall to securely lock them in. Just before I do, I toss a lighter and a full packet of cigarettes towards Bill, the reward I promised earlier.
“There you go. Don’t smoke them all at once. And don’t get any ideas about setting your room on fire so I’ll let you out and you can escape,” I warningly add to Tom, knowing he’d try something dumb like that. “All you’ll do is set off the sprinkler system and get yourself soaked. Imagine how much fun it’ll be sleeping on a soggy mattress.”
“We won’t do that,” Bill dutifully replies, shooting his brother a cautioning glare before looking back at me in gratitude. “Thank you for the smokes, Koji.”
“You’re welcome, Bill. Thank you for co-operating.” He’s so endearingly polite; I manage a little smile for him. “Oh, by the way, don’t be too offended by my previous comments about your music. I might not like your particular style but I’m not saying that you’re bad - I’m just more of a Rammstein guy, that’s all.”
“You like Rammstein?”
“Bill, stop talking to him!” Tom hisses, yanking his younger sibling inside by the arm.
“Ow, Tom,” Bill complains, wrenching out of his brother’s harsh grasp.
Glaring at me, Tom announces, “We’re here. You can leave now.”
“As you wish.” I shut the door on them and return to the media room, sitting down for my daily entertainment of twin-watching.
“That crazy, cock-sucking bastard!” Unsurprisingly, I find Tom in mid-rant. “There is something seriously not right with him. I mean, screwing his own brother? And sounding PROUD of it? He needs to be strapped into a straightjacket and locked away in a mental ward for sex offenders.”
He sounds utterly repulsed. Doesn’t stop him from lighting up a cigarette, though. He impatiently sucks on the filter between his lips, his cheeks hollowing as he makes up for twenty four painful hours of nicotine deprivation, exhaling a large cloud of blue smoke towards the ceiling.
“Did you hear the shit he was saying, Bill?”
“Yes. I heard,” Bill answers, mumbling around the cigarette that he’s trying to light, his shaky hands making the flame tremble.
“Genetic Sexual Attraction, my ass,” Tom carries on with his tirade. “It’s nothing more than a fancy word for dirty old incest.”
“What if it is a real thing?” Smoke curls out of Bill’s mouth as he speaks, having successfully lit up, the stick of tobacco held sophisticatedly between his first two fingers. “And what if some people can’t help it, or help the way they feel?”
“Rubbish,” Tom dismisses. “Sounds more like a convenient excuse for people to be perverts and child-molesters, in my opinion.”
Tom might not believe a word of what I’ve told him but I can tell that the theory has got Bill thinking. That’s good. That’s exactly what I want him to do. If he’s able to think about it, then there’s a very strong chance of him accepting the suggestion of forming a more intimate relationship with his twin and actually letting it happen in real life.
But I have a feeling it won’t just ‘happen’. Not as easy as that. I’ve provided the trigger by kidnapping one of them and then bringing them back together but even if Bill accepts the idea, and actively encourages it, Tom has to be an equal part of it too. He has to want it as well. Judging by the older boy’s rigidly repugnant abhorrence towards the topic of GSA - and the thought of bedding his little brother - I don’t think it’s going to be as simple as locking them in a room together and waiting for the twincest to unfold. No, I believe I’ll need to retort to some fairly severe shock-tactics in order to make Tom change his mind. If he doesn’t, this whole expensive experiment will be a waste of my time and a disappointing failure.
I don’t care about the money but I don’t like wasting my time.
And I certainly do NOT like to fail.
…………
Following three smokes, one after the other, Bill is peering in the fridge, searching for something to eat. I’ve left milk, yoghurt and a few other light snacks in there, such as cheese and crackers. Looking over his shoulder, Tom scrutinises all the food with a great deal of distrust, even though all of it is in sealed packages that haven’t been opened or tampered with. He must think I’m going to poison them both, like mice in an attic.
“Don’t touch any of that,” he warns Bill.
“But I’m hungry, Tom!” Bill’s face is the picture of dismay and yearning. “We didn’t have breakfast or lunch today. I never had dinner last night, either.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Hauling his already-skinny brother away from the refrigerator, Tom says with narrowed eyes, “I don’t trust anything he’s put in there.”
The younger one huffs. “Well, what are we gonna eat?”
“We can eat whatever the hell we want when we get out of here.”
“And when’s that gonna be?”
“I don’t know! Give me a fucking break, Bill.” Tom sounds weary of his twin’s pestering. “I’m working on it, all right?”
“Well, work harder,” Bill sulks. “At this rate, I’ll starve to death before we escape.”
As he’s been doing every ten minutes, Tom goes over the room again, searching for possible ways out and not finding any. The chair that he smashed up is sitting in a corner and in desperation he pulls off one of the broken metal legs, using the jagged tip of it to scrape at the concrete wall behind the couch, fine dust settling at his feet. Given enough time, he could dig his way out but by then they’ll both be fifty years old and have beards down to their knees.
Bored, Bill begins pulling drawers and cupboards open to see what’s in them. He finds a washer/dryer located in one cupboard that’s hooked up to the water supply, happy that he can wash his clothes and won’t be forced to wear the same thing two days in a row. He also finds an ironing board and an iron, a couple of extra blankets - nothing very exciting. In one of the bedside drawers, the third one down, he discovers something of interest, reaching in and retrieving it for further study. It’s a tube of lubricant.
“Hey, Tom. Look what I found,” Bill says, holding it up. “Lube.”
“Ew. Put that back! Haven’t you ever heard of germs?” Tom exclaims in disgust, acting like it’s something gross and contaminated.
“It hasn’t been opened. It’s brand new.”
“I don’t care,” Tom barks. “Don’t touch it!”
At Tom’s overreaction, Bill rolls his eyes and puts the tube back in the drawer. Now inspecting a packet of condoms he got from the same place, also plastic-sealed, Bill muses, “He’s really serious about the whole sex thing, isn’t he?”
“Bill, for God’s sakes!” Scowling at him, Tom marches over and snatches the condoms out of his brother’s hand, throwing them next to the lube and slamming the drawer shut. “Leave that shit alone. All right?”
“Sor-ry,” Bill returns, sounding slightly offended. “What’s wrong with you lately? You’re so cranky.”
“I’m cranky because we’ve been kidnapped, doofus!”
“You were cranky way before that happened.”
“I was not!”
“Yeah, you were. And don’t call me doofus.”
“Well, stop touching stuff!”
“I can touch whatever I want, Tom. You’re not my boss.”
“Fine. If you catch some disease in here, don’t come whining to me.”
Smirking to myself at their brotherly bickering, I watch as an inquisitive Bill gets on his knees and peers under the bed, dragging out two metal barbells that he can’t even lift off the floor.
“Tom, these must be for you,” he calls out, pointing to his discovery. “You can work out while you’re down here.”
“Weights, huh?” Tom mutters, picking one up with a grunt and testing its mass, probably wondering how he can use the heavy objects to escape. If only there were windows down here to smash. He’s most likely contemplating hitting me over the head with one of them but since they weigh about thirty five pounds each, that’s easier said than done. He does a couple of bicep-curls and then puts the barbell back on the floor, returning to the concrete wall he’s scraping away. It’s not really going to help him get out of here, at least not in this decade, but I suppose it gives him something to do and something to focus on other than the terrible reality that they’re trapped below ground with no means of communicating with the outside world.
Later in the afternoon, I go to their room, calling on the phone first to inform them of my arrival. I plan on letting them know in advance when I intend to visit so they can compose themselves and be ready for it otherwise they’ll become strung-out nervous wrecks by the end of the week, jumping with fright every time I open the door and not sleeping at night due to the constant fear of me barging in on them at any given moment. I don’t want that. I want them to loosen up when I’m not there so that they’ll behave more naturally and spontaneously when it’s just the two of them. After all, nobody feels like sex when they’re overly tired and stressed out. To give them their required privacy, I’ll put in place a routine of set visiting hours – which won’t include any late night visits unless it’s an emergency - and soon, they’ll get used to my schedule and know when to expect me and when they can be alone.
Or as alone as they can be with me watching through hidden cameras.
When I open the door to the boys’ room, something silver comes flying towards my head and I reflexively duck, turning to see what crashes against the corridor wall behind me.
“Okay, who threw the iron?”
I slant an unimpressed brow in Tom’s direction, knowing it must have been him. He doesn’t answer, just glowers at me defiantly, standing between the doorway and Bill in a defensive blocking position, both hands bunched into fists he’s ready to use.
“I told him not to but he wouldn’t listen!” Bill blurts from behind his aggressive brother, not wanting to get punished for something Tom has done.
“I ought to kick your punk ass but since I’ve already done that twice in the last two days, I’ll let this one slide,” I tell Tom in a steely tone. “However, if you try it again, I’ll break your arm so fucking badly you won’t ever play guitar again. You hear me, Tommy?”
“Fuck you, mother-” Tom starts to growl but Bill’s hand clamps over his mouth, hastily cutting off his retort.
“Shut up, Tom!”
Shoving his twin away, Tom snaps, “Don’t tell me what to do, Bill!”
“But you’re gonna get us into trouble!”
“We’re already IN trouble, moron.”
Bill’s tone rises in offense. “Don’t call me a moron, you jerk!”
“Sorry to interrupt your little family feud, but I figured you might want these back.” Picking up a few bags off the floor beside me, I toss them through the doorway, each small suitcase filled with the twins’ clothes and personal effects.
“I took the liberty of checking you both out of your hotel room. Oh, and I borrowed your car, Tom. It’s uber-nice and drives like a dream,” I remark, still impressed by his shiny black Cadillac.
When he begins to bristle irritably at my presumptuousness, I add, “Don’t worry, there’s not a scratch on the paintwork. I’ve parked it in my underground garage so nobody can steal it while you’re gone. Your baby is perfectly safe.”
“It better be, fucker,” Tom threatens with a scowl of his thick dark eyebrows. “Anything happens to my Caddy - you’re buying me a new one.”
“Not a problem. I’ll gladly replace it.”
Puzzled by the casualness of my answer, Tom squints at me and the black two-piece tuxedo I’m wearing, only just noticing my oddly fancy evening attire. “What’s with the tux? Are you Bruce Wayne or something?”
“If you’re asking whether I’m wealthy, then I suppose you could say that. But I don’t like to brag about my financial status. It’s terribly arrogant when people do that.”
“How’d you get your money?”
In a tactful manner, I explain, “My family is very …economically stable.”
He snorts. “So, you live off mommy and daddy’s wealth. You don’t actually WORK for it, like we do.”
“Actually, I used to work as an electrical engineer. I found it quite interesting and was highly paid. But I don’t do that anymore.”
“Kept interrupting your hobby of abducting celebrities, huh?” Tom drawls acidly.
I smile at him. “Oh, yes. This is much more fun.”
Interjecting, Bill queries, “How did you get past hotel security?”
“I passed myself off as one of your minders. It was easy. All I need is an air of authority and a sharp suit like this,” I breeze, indicating to the black pants, jacket and tie I have on over a crisp white shirt. “I told security and reception staff you were changing hotels to get away from the photographers camping outside. They believed me. Now, nobody knows where you’ve gone and won’t be too worried if they don’t hear from you. They’ll assume you’re too busy enjoying the rest of your vacation to bother answering your phones. Even if anyone does start to question your absence, there’s jack-shit they can do about it. So, guess what, boys? For the next couple of weeks you’re stuck in here with me.”
I look at both of them expectantly. “And each other, of course.”
“Don’t you even think about saying it,” Tom growls at me menacingly.
“Saying what?”
“Anything about that stupid ‘Genetic Attraction’ horseshit. It’s wrong and you know it.”
“You think that I was wrong to love my brother? You think that love is wrong, Tom?”
“Not love. Just the sex part.” He pulls a revolted face. “How could you do that, man? Your own brother? That’s just fucked-up.”
“Oh, I agree. We were quite fucked-up.” With a smirk I slide in, “Or at least one of us usually was by the end of the night.”
Releasing a guttural sound of sheer disgust, Tom shakes his head and turns his back on me, going to collect one of his bags from the floor where I had thrown it and rummaging through his belongings to make sure I haven’t stolen anything. Yeah, like I really need a mountain of bandannas, caps and giant pants.
Bill doesn’t turn away. He keeps staring at me, three quarters-shocked by my brazen comment and one quarter-intrigued, a slight give-away glimmer in his dark almond eyes. He’s probably never met anyone with as much blunt honesty or as little shame as I. Yes, I loved my brother. With all my heart, soul and body. I loved him and he loved me and we made love with each other. Our bed was filled with pleasure, joy and laughter. The happiest moments of my life were spent in my brother’s arms. Why should I be ashamed of that?
“Where are my sunglasses?” Tom demands irately. “Did you take my fucking sunglasses?”
“No, I didn’t take your fucking sunglasses,” I return mildly. “I packed everything you had in the hotel. You probably left them somewhere else.”
“I didn’t leave them anywhere,” Tom snaps, digging in the bottom of the bag. “They are my favourite pair of shades and I HATE losing…” He freezes with his arm buried in a pile of extra-large T-shirts.
Muttering at his discovery, he says, “Never mind.”
Tom seems more concerned with his stuff than how I feel about my brother or the way we felt about each other. He just doesn’t understand because he’s never experienced that emotion before. He’s never been in love. Not real love, anyway. He may have been infatuated by a woman or two in his time but infatuation is fleeting and trivial. It doesn’t mean anything and can easily be transferred to the next short skirt that flounces past. He prides himself on being this super-smooth seducer who doesn’t get emotionally attached to anybody and therefore can’t ever see himself falling that hard for a chick, let alone for his own twin.
Bill, however… This naïve kid might not know the difference between a blow job and a blow dryer but I believe he’s a lot more sensitively attuned to his own feelings, and the feelings of others. That’s most likely why he hasn’t slept with anyone yet. He doesn’t see sex as sex. He sees sex as something much more than that, something deeper, more significant and spiritual. Tom doesn’t. Tom sees sex as a bit of fun. He thinks with his lower regions while Bill thinks with his heart. They both have boys bodies with all the appropriate boy-parts but what goes on inside their heads is vastly different. That’s why Bill sits with his knees together and Tom lets his sprawl apart. That’s why Tom dresses like Eminem and Bill like Avril Lavigne. That’s why Bill likes having his nails done and wearing makeup and Tom does not. That’s why Bill spends an hour primping and preening his hair while Tom has formed his into matted chunks so he doesn’t have to worry about it. Bill’s a perfectionist princess-diva while Tom’s just a laid-back, easy-going dude.
To put it simply, Tom’s brain is male. Bill’s is female. And that’s why this experiment is bound to work. They’re a perfect match. They just haven’t realised it yet.
And that’s where I come in.
“You say you don’t have these feelings for each other but you do,” I affirm, speaking to both of them even though Tom is intentionally ignoring me, taking his clothes out of the bag and arranging them onto the bed in little piles to check if they’re all there, acting like I’m not in the room anymore.
“I’ve been watching you guys together for months and the way you look at each other sometimes…No wonder girls write erotic fanfiction about you.”
I can see Tom’s backbone stiffen.
“What do you mean?” Bill dares to ask.
“It’s flirting. You don’t realise you’re doing it, but you are. Those little smiles and glances you share reveal a lot more than you know. You flirt because subconsciously, you’re attracted to each other.”
Tom makes a sound very much like a bulldog trying to dislodge a blade of grass stuck to its nose. Even though he won’t look at me, apparently he’s still listening. And disagreeing.
“Remember when you were little children and you used to look at each other’s private parts in the bath and play with them? It used to be fun. And then one of your parents caught you playing like that and you got in trouble for it. You got scolded and told not to do that ever again because it was naughty and only bad boys did those dirty things.”
Tom turns frozen and unmoving.
Bill stares at me, dumbfounded with shock. “How…how did you know about that? We would have only been four or five!”
“Because it happened to me too. I was just guessing you’d experienced something similar.” I smile in understanding. “I think it happens to all siblings, not just twins. But that’s when you started to lose the innocence and purity of your love. You didn’t think it was wrong to touch each other like that back then. It was something special and yours and it made you feel close and connected. You didn’t think it was wrong until somebody told you that it was and ruined it for you. Now, you carry around such a burden of shame about your past closeness. You need to unlearn that.”
“Unlearn it?” Bill’s face is puzzled. “How do you mean?”
“Go back to your childhood. Do things that you used to do when you weren’t so self-conscious about yourselves. Play silly games. Wrestle each other. Walk around in your underwear.”
“Tom already does that,” Bill naively volunteers. I can sense Tom’s ire rising from here, like a bubbling kettle just about to boil. He’s two seconds away from smacking Bill in the mouth to make him shut up.
“Well, that’s a start,” I reply encouragingly. “Why don’t you try it as well, Bill? Maybe even without underwear.”
The slimmer twin glances uncertainly at Tom’s increasingly rigid spine. “Um…maybe not…”
“You guys should focus on being more casual and open around each other. You’re twins. You shared a womb naked for nine months so you shouldn’t have anything to hide now. Perhaps you’re too tall to fit in a bathtub at the same time but why don’t you try taking a shower together?”
“Why don’t you get the fuck out of our room?” Tom snarls, finally turning around, his eyes black with fury. “Stop talking to my brother about your disgusting incest fantasies and get out!”
“I bet Bill doesn’t think it’s disgusting. I bet he remembers how nice it was to bathe with you when you were little kids.” I gaze intensely at the brunette twin. “Don’t you, Billie-boy? You remember.”
Bill’s not even game to answer, sensing Tom’s fuse burning hazardously low. Tom is so worked up; I can see him shaking, all the veins popping out on his arms as he clenches his fists by his sides. His face is flushing with furious blood.
“I think you should go, Koji,” Bill says anxiously, nervously glancing at Tom as if the other teenager is a stick of dynamite that’s going to explode any moment now, which isn’t far off the truth. I can see for myself how unstable Tom’s emotions are, heightened by stress and lack of sleep.
“All right. You’re both tired. I’ll let you be for now,” I grant, speaking to Bill as well. “But at least think about what I’ve said.”
Distractedly nodding, Bill looks to Tom again and then glances back at me, silently pleading with me to go before Tom blows like a cap-wearing volcano. I don’t think Bill is worried about Tom hurting me, but rather the other way around. If Tom attacks me, I will be forced to defend myself and that might involve some violence, or at least another sleeper-hold. I bet Bill doesn’t want to watch Tom go through that scary experience a second time. Honestly, I don’t want to do it either. It won’t solve anything. It is better if I just go. Giving the prettier Kaulitz boy a respectful bow of my head, I turn around and leave him alone with his fuming sibling. Even with the door closed, I can hear Tom’s immediate eruption, his heated profanities following me down the passageway. I’m pretty sure he throws something at the door after me. Probably one of his bags.
“That sick, stalking son of a bitch,” Tom is still ranting when I get back in the viewing booth and sit down in front of my monitor. “I can’t believe the crap that comes out of his mouth. He’s completely screwed in the head!”
“Possibly,” Bill contemplates, kneeling on the floor, going through his jewellery case and slipping on a few rings; a black stone set in silver, a plaited Celtic band and another one that looks like a metal bird-skull with a sharp beak curving over his first knuckle. He absently admires them while he speaks to his brother.
“But I can kinda get why he is the way he is. If you died, Tom, I don’t think I’d remain very sane either.”
“No, Bill. No!” Tom says warningly, pointing a threatening finger at the younger male as if he’s a puppy about to pee on the carpet. “Don’t you dare develop Stockholms!”
Bill glances up with a bemused look.
“Stockholm Syndrome?” Tom repeats, raising his brows for emphasis. “You know, where you sympathise with the criminal who abducted you and start to form some weird twisted bond with them?”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot. I was smarter than YOU at school,” Bill replies testily, as if Tom just called him dense. “I know what Stockholm Syndrome is. And I’m not developing it. I’m just saying that I understand why Koji is so…emotionally unbalanced. I mean, imagine if you lost me? Wouldn’t that change you?”
“Stop feeling sorry for that bastard! That’s exactly what he wants you to do. God, Bill.” Tom face-palms in exasperation. “I’m sure mom dropped you on the head when you were a baby. That’s why you’re so unbelievably retarded.”
Standing up, Bill crosses his arms over his chest and stiffly replies, “Well, fuck you too, Tom.”
Realising he’s gone too far, Tom hurriedly back-pedals, “Aw, c’mon. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, fuck you!” After a few more moments of irritated silence, Bill turns away and mutters, “I never should have let him bring you here.”
“Why, so you could’ve been all alone with him?” Tom bursts out jealously, Bill’s anger affecting him too. “You LIKE him, don’t you? You’ve got the hots for your own damn kidnapper!”
“I do not!”
“Yeah, you do. You’d let him kiss you. You’d probably even let him touch you, wouldn’t you?” Tom goads his twin. “You’d let him shove his hand down your pants. You’d be too stupid to stop him.”
Bill’s eyes glitter dangerously. “Shut your fucking mouth, Tom.”
“Or what?” The bigger boy steps closer in a challenging pose. “You gonna shut it for me, you stupid little retard?”
Insulted by the offensive name, Bill thins his lips into a line of incensed fury and slaps Tom across the cheek, the sound sharp within the quiet confines of the room.
Unaffected, Tom just gives a mocking ‘humph’ and looks disdainfully back at his brother.
“That all you got? A bitch-slap? That was weak, Bill.”
At the provocation, Bill hits him again, harder, actually making Tom rock back a bit. Then Bill snatches off Tom’s green baseball cap and vengefully hurls it to the floor, stomping on it with a sneaker and crushing the peaked designer-label article into a flattened, unfixable mess. He cocks a hip and smirks defiantly at Tom, daring him to retaliate. This time Tom does, the older teen narrowing his eyes, raising his hand and belting Bill square across the mouth, snapping the younger boy’s head to the side. At the harsh strike, Bill gasps with outrage, swinging around and glaring hatefully at Tom before pouncing on his big brother and knocking him backwards onto the bed, driving his small fist swiftly beneath Tom’s ribcage as he does so, resulting in a pained grunt. Bill tries to sucker-punch Tom in the gut again but the well-built guitarist hardens his abs in advance, protecting his internal organs with a layer of solid muscle. Growling in annoyance, Tom shoves at his sibling’s leaner, lighter figure, roughly pushing Bill over onto his back and then grappling with him, Tom’s strong thighs trying to entrap Bill’s kicking legs. He’s leaning right on top of Bill with his heavier weight, gripping his little brother by the wrists, calloused fingers digging into soft flesh. They are scowling darkly at each other, two pairs of chocolate eyes flashing ferociously, teeth bared in frenzied snarls, their faces mere centimetres apart.
If this was my fantasy, they’d suddenly start kissing and then have rough, angry sex on the bed but unfortunately I’m not in control of events here. In fact, nobody is in control at the moment; they’re both too pissed-off to do anything less than attempt to kill each other. A naturally dominant Tom tries to hold Bill’s skinny arms down but Bill won’t tolerate that, twisting out of Tom’s grasp and clawing at the other boy’s face with sharp nails. Tom jerks back just in time to avoid losing an eye, hissing and attempting to choke Bill as punishment, both hands going around Bill’s throat. Gasping and spluttering, Bill brings his knee up, aiming to get Tom’s balls but Tom sees it coming and bucks out of the way.
Swearing and yelling in German, the two enraged teenagers spitefully struggle against each other, tumbling off the mattress and onto the floor with a thud, then rolling around in a brawling chaos of wild black hair and flying blond dreadlocks, the pair of them using fists, elbows, knees and feet, anything to inflict a blow and get some payback. Bill might look girly but he definitely fights like a guy, punching Tom in the face and head as hard as he can, even grabbing Tom’s roped hair and slamming his skull against the floor. Luckily, their room is carpeted or Tom’s brain would be leaking out by now.
Suddenly, the twins run out of energy and split apart, both lying separately on their backs, panting and scruffy. It’s over, just as fast as it began. Tom is bleeding, Bill’s rings cutting him on the jaw during their tussle. There are also scratches on his chin. He’s lucky Bill didn’t tear his lip ring right out. Bill’s eyebrow piercing also remains unscathed but the younger twin’s mouth looks swollen and bruised. There are red finger-marks on his cheek and neck. Tears of anger have run down his face and he wipes them away with the back of his hand.
“I’m sorry,” Tom puffs breathlessly and regretfully. “I’m sorry, Bill. You’re not stupid.”
Bill doesn’t answer straight away; he’s busy catching his breath, his flat chest rising and deflating with each rasping pant. Eventually, he licks his lips and speaks, sounding bitter.
“No, you’re right. Maybe I am stupid. I let myself get taken. I was too distracted smoking a cigarette and checking my text messages to notice what was going on around me.” A harsh, dry laugh escapes Bill’s throat. “Figures. I hardly ever use my phone and the one time I do, I get my ass kidnapped. It’s my own damn fault for not paying attention.”
“It’s not your fault at all. It’s mine.” Tom lolls his head to the right and looks at Bill guiltily. “I shouldn’t have left you outside a public bathroom alone. Shit, I’m the older one here. I’m supposed to take care of you, to protect you, and I failed.”
“You can’t protect me all the time.”
Tom goes silent, all too aware of this fact. There were times he couldn’t save Bill from being beaten up at school and just two days ago, he was unable to stop Bill from being abducted right under his nose.
“Maybe I can’t save you all the time, but I’m still going to try,” Tom finally answers. “I’ll probably die doing it, but I’ll never stop trying to keep you safe, all right?”

Starting to soften, Bill glances at him. “You have blood on your face.”
Wiping his jaw with the edge of his sleeve, Tom grumbles half-heartedly, “Why do you have to wear so many fucking rings?”
“Why do you have to be such a fucking asshole?”
“Okay.” Tom sighs and stares at the roof. “I guess I deserved that.”
Bill keeps quiet, silently agreeing.
After a few more minutes of reflective quietness, the bigger twin turns to the other and apologises sincerely, “I really am sorry for what I said, Bill. I didn’t mean it. You’re my best friend and I care about you more than everything else in the world. I’d do anything for you. That’s why I got into the back of the van, even though I knew I was getting kidnapped too. I didn’t want you to go through this all alone. I came just to be with you.”
Bill breathes in shakily. “I know.”
When Tom rolls over to gather him in a clumsy apologetic hug, Bill lets him, closing his eyes.
“I’m glad you’re here, Tomi,” he whispers, hugging Tom back with thin, trembling arms. “I didn’t want to be myself in this place. Thank you so much for coming.”
“You don’t have to say that, silly.” With loving softness, Tom presses his lips to Bill’s temple, just once. “I’m your brother. I’ll always be there when you need me.”
The smaller teen sniffs, struggling to keep his emotions in. “I know,” he says again.
Lying on the carpeted floor, they hold each other close for a while, Tom’s arms around Bill’s fragile neck and shoulders, and Bill’s wrapped about Tom’s sturdy waist, their tender embrace making up for the brutality of the fight they just had. I get the feeling they’ve done this before – fought until they bled and then hugged it all better again.
“Tom?” Bill eventually pipes up in a tiny child-like voice.
“Yeah?”
“I want to go home. To our puppies.”
“Me too.”
“When can we?”
“Soon. Just give me a little time to figure things out, okay?”
“Okay.” Bill sounds depressed but he puts his faith in his big brother, trusting him to find a way out of there. Gently, Tom strokes Bill’s messy hair out of his face and then rests his chin on top of the slimmer boy’s head, Tom’s eyes grave and serious and fiercely protective all at once.
He’d kill me if he had the chance. He has vowed it more than once and I can also see it in his face right now. I stole Bill away from him and he wants revenge. It doesn’t matter that they’re back together again. I scared Bill. I abducted him, imprisoned him and I hit him. I made him cry. For that, Tom would kill me and he wouldn’t even regret it. He already proved his thirst for vengeance by pulling a loaded gun on me. The kid’s got a big brass pair of balls and I admire that. I would very much like to get to know him better. By the end of this, I hope I will. I hope we can somehow be friends. In the meantime, I best not foolishly turn my back on Tom Kaulitz because I know what he’s capable of and what he’s willing to do for Bill’s safety. The love between brothers, especially identical twins, can be incredibly powerful and dangerous. It can make a person act out of character and cause them to do things they never thought they ever would.
As these boys will soon find out…
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Captivation