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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
When Tom had disappeared into the lift, Adam cautiously peeked out of his broken hotel door, making sure the other boy had really gone. He had to go check on Bill, to make sure he was okay and that Tom hadn’t gotten rough with him.
It took a while for Bill to open the door but Adam kept politely and insistently knocking until a crack appeared and the German boy’s dark brown gaze peered warily out at him.
“Hey, it’s just me,” Adam greeted the other male. “Your brother’s taken off somewhere. Don’t think he’ll be coming back anytime soon by the looks of him.”
Bill just shrugged a narrow shoulder, as if he didn’t care. Worried, Adam studied the younger musician’s face. Bill didn’t have any bruises or bleeding so apparently Tom hadn’t hit him or anything. The kid just looked tired and disappointed; perhaps he’d even been crying. It was hard to tell with all the black makeup smeared around his eyes.
“Are you all right, darlin’?” Adam asked in his soft American drawl, tentatively touching Bill’s arm. “Do you want me to stay with you for a little while? We can talk about what happened, if you like.”

The sheer kindness and caring in Adam’s voice immediately made Bill’s eyes fill with tears and he suddenly realised that he needed comfort. Usually he’d get it from Tom but since his idiotic brother caused this whole mess Bill didn’t want to see him at the moment, if ever again. But Adam was different. He wasn’t aggressive or thoughtless or cruel in any way. The truth was that Bill was starting to really like the more experienced singer and his warm, affectionate nature. He thought that Adam might have been permanently scared away by Tom’s violent over-protectiveness but no, here he was at Bill’s doorway with a concerned crease in his brow, asking if he was okay.
Bill had never had anybody treat him this way, as if he was precious and important and deserving of the highest respect. Adam made him feel…valued and desired. And for more than just his looks or fame. Since he’d given Bill his first boy/boy kiss and his first gay sexual experience (both of which were admittedly amazing) Adam had already swept aside a lot of Bill’s emotional and physical barriers and therefore he was the only one who could make Bill feel better right now. Or rather, the only one that Bill would ALLOW to make him feel better. Biting his lip, the thinner boy hesitantly nodded, opening the door wider for his older lover to come in.
………
After descending ten levels, the lift doors opened with a ‘ding’. Tom nearly fell out with dizziness. With the downward motion of the elevator and all those disorienting mirrors all around him, he was damn lucky he hadn’t puked in there. Limping across the carpeted lobby, he happened to spot Georg and Gustav at the hotel’s ground-floor bar. They must have left the awards party when they couldn’t find Tom or Bill there anymore. Georg was sitting at a table with some other people they knew in the business, Tom’s long-haired bandmate gesturing for him to come over and join them. On any other occasion, Tom would have sat down and had some drinks with his buds, and some raucous laughs as well, but right then laughing was the furthest thing on his mind. Right then he just wanted to get out of the building and get some fresh air.
But Georg wasn’t having that.
“Tom, where have you been, dude? We missed you.” Coming up and slinging an arm around Tom’s shoulders Georg greeted him with easy familiarity, a wide grin on his handsomely chiselled face.
“You get lucky or what?”
Eyes downcast, Tom stiffly shook his head, making his braids sway. Georg frowned at Tom’s unusually tense manner and the paleness of his face.
“You okay, man? You feeling sick or something?”
Even though he sort of was, Tom shook his head again. He was still under the effects of alcohol but that wasn’t why he felt ill. It was more because of what he did to Bill. He didn’t want to talk to anybody about it, but an alarmed Georg took him by the arm and led him over to the table and Tom had no choice but to follow, stumbling on his aching foot. His vision was swimming, like the room was slowly tilting on its axis. Maybe it was better if he didn’t go outside anyhow. If he tried to roam the streets in this unbalanced state, he’d probably smack straight into a telephone pole or stagger off a bridge.
Gustav was at the bar, ordering another round of drinks. He noticed Tom’s arrival and indicated to a bottle of beer, asking if Tom wanted one too. Shaking his head for the third time, the bandanna-wearing boy slumped at the table, knowing he’d already had too much to drink. Other people at the table greeted him but Tom didn’t reply.
Scooting closer in his chair, Georg focused on Tom, the brown-haired bass player sensing something wrong.
“What’s going on?” He touched Tom’s shoulder. “Did something happen?”
Before Tom could answer, Gustav came up to them and plonked down with three beers, the short blond male sliding one across to Tom anyway.
“Thanks for leaving us behind at the party. That’s real considerate, Tom,” Gustav scolded, taking a gulp of his beer. “Why didn’t you tell us that you guys were going?”
Only just noticing Tom’s stricken expression, Gustav’s mild annoyance switched into instant concern, proving what a close-knit lot of friends they were.
“Hey, you all right?” Putting the bottle down Gustav leaned in, peering anxiously at Tom’s white face through square-rimmed glasses. Realising they were missing one member of the band, he added, “And where’s Bill?”
“I fucked up,” Tom mumbled, staring listlessly at the table, avoiding his bandmates’ eyes and not even touching the beer bottle in front of him. “I fucked up bad.”
Gustav and Georg swapped puzzled glances at Tom’s strange behaviour.
“What happened?” Georg spoke in an apprehensive tone, noting how terrible the older twin looked. “What did you do, Tom?”
Knowing that he was in the presence of two good friends who hopefully wouldn’t judge him too harshly, Tom clumsily began to explain, realising that he really needed to get it all off his chest. In a monotone, he described how Bill had left the music awards with Adam and how he’d come to the hotel shortly afterwards, banging on doors to find them. He explained how he’d busted into Adam’s room and found them both half-dressed and how crazy that had made him. He told Gustav and Georg how he’d shoved Adam into the wall and then dragged Bill back to their own room.
“So, I wrecked Bill’s first man-date and now he hates me.” Tom exhaled, glanced down and pressed his lips together in a tight line. “Yeah. Go on. Say it - I’m an asshole. An angry fucking asshole who doesn’t think about what he’s fucking doing.”
The other two boys looked at each other, worriedly.
“Did you hit Adam?” Georg asked in a careful voice.
“No. I mean, I wanted to but no. I didn’t.”
“What about Bill? You didn’t hurt him either?” Gustav stressed fretfully. “Like, physically?”
“Of course not! He’s just really, really pissed off.” Tom chewed at his lip-piercing, feeling miserable beyond measure. “Fuck. He’s never gonna speak to me again.”
After another exchange of glances with the blond drummer, Georg finally offered, “Yeah, you overreacted big-time but Bill will forgive you, eventually. You know he will.”
Tom shook his head gloomily, not really believing it.
“Sure, he might be mad at you now but he’ll realise you were just trying to protect him,” the bassist said, squeezing Tom’s shoulder reassuringly, seeing for himself how deeply ashamed Tom was for his aggressively impulsive actions. “And once he calms down he’ll forgive you. He has to. He’s your brother.”
Brother. Tom wasn’t sure that fact would help him anymore. Even though they were identical twins, he could not tell what Bill was thinking right now, or predict what the other boy might do.
With a morose headshake, Tom muttered, “I gotta get out of here. I gotta go.”
He went to stand up but Gustav’s strong hand forced him back down in his chair.
“You can’t run away from this, Tom,” Gustav said, ever the sensible one. “You have to go back up there and talk to Bill. You have to make it right.”
Tom gave the blond drummer a helpless look. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. But first, we need to get you sober. C’mon, Georg,” Gustav ordered, taking one of Tom’s arms while the long-haired male took the other one, hefting Tom out of his seat. “Let’s get this sorry sack of shit into the shower.”
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Sock Syndrome