Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Silence	By : kimbk Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 1903 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know any members of Rammstein. This is purely a work of fiction: it does not intend to reflect any aspect of the members' lives and I do not make any profit from this work.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
Author's Note: I will deviate from the norm and have most of my notes after the chapter is over. But first I need to thank my first reviewer ever since November, NoX - thank God, I thought this posting of the story would forever go without any comments at all. ; w ; Thank you so much. *hugs* I worried about that aspect too, that having it tagged as NoSex and having nothing but agonizing contemplations and hem-hawing was going to put everybody off. I'm glad that I delivered up to the eighth chapter. I hope this one will not disappoint you, although it is indeed the final chapter.
I recommend putting on the entire album of 'Herzeleid' for this one.
-----------------------------
A major change is what he needed in his life. Richard looks back at what used to be his house, shrugs, and turns away. The year is 2011 and he's leaving New York City; too many memories that he ought to put behind him reside there. It's about time that he laid them to rest, because they will persist as long as he is there and he's not getting any younger. He should leave them behind. He thinks of Caron and feels a surge of regret for not being the best he could have been - they would have never worked out either way, it wasn't meant to be, but at first all he thought of were the things he could have given her and done for her and never did. He could have been a better person, looking back on his life he sees so many lost opportunities - but they are times long gone by, and he should move on once and for all.
They're over and done with the 'Liebe Ist Für Alle Da' tour at last. It's taken them a lot longer than expected, the tour was too popular to quit within a year - and while he's definitely had fun, Richard is glad for it. He's spent the earlier quarter of 2011 sending and moving things back to Berlin for brief storage, and doing this at the same time as touring various countries was certainly no easy feat. But his house is sold now, he's only got enough possessions on him to fill up a room or two, and it is with those items that he will return to Germany in person. New York City is not the right place for him to be at this present time; the flight is early tomorrow morning, and he's already feeling excited about it.
He is forty-four this year; not young, but not too old. Still plenty of time left. He goes into a small nondescript cafe and asks for an espresso, sitting down with the brew and watching the people pass by outside. From inside of his jacket he fishes out a letter, carefully folded into quarters, and smoothes it out with one hand. Reading the words there brings a faint, longing smile to his lips, and he runs his hand over the paper lightly, stroking it tenderly as if he would a lover. This is the sixth letter he's received from the sender in the past two months, and that's not counting the pages of poems that came along with the letters in their envelopes. It's a new form of communication that they're trying out instead of calling all the time - letters are less instantaneous and utterly agonizing to wait for, but contain more substance within. Thinking about that brings back a memory from a long time ago, which makes him smile again.
He still has the basket that Till made just for him, when he was thirty-one and Richard was twenty-seven and both were very much jeune encore. He's always kept it in good condition, sometimes giving it a dust down and always handling it carefully, so it still has its polished glow and isn't unraveled in the slightest. It's tarnished with age a little, of course, but that adds character. What the basket held when it was first presented to him is long gone now, but over the years Richard has kept little things like stage makeup, pills, coins and guitar picks in it. Now he keeps letters in there, letters and poems from Till, and he doesn't think that he'll change the contents in that basket from now on. It's found its true purpose after a seventeen-year journey.
Richard's on his way to discover his own.
Of course he has a purpose right now; he is Richard Z. Kruspe, the lead guitarist and backup vocalist of Rammstein. But he's a human being, not a simple basket, and the things that he's got to do in life are considerably more complex. Eventually Rammstein will break up, none of the six can keep going on forever, and he's got to have something that's beyond just being a guitarist when Rammstein is no more than a bunch of records, DVDs and a legend that will live on in the hearts of millions.
He asked Till once what he planned to do when he was no longer in his forties. "I'd retire when I'm fifty," he'd replied with a small frown, pausing what he was doing and nibbling the end of his pen slightly. "I can't carry on for too long, as you'd know. I'd spend some time with the kids. Take up writing as a full-time job. A little too late to weave baskets now," he'd smiled at the younger man, making his heart skip a beat. "even though life was much simpler back then. But I know Rammstein will break up if I leave, so I'd... want to save those thoughts for when we all agree that we're pretty spent. That's all I can think of for now."
"But we can't carry on the entire band if you don't feel up to it," Richard had answered quietly. "you say it'd be selfish for you to leave when we're still good to go, but I think it'd be even more selfish of us to keep going when you're finding things difficult. Our breakup is inevitable; we all know that we can't maintain the band forever. That's not a choice, Keeping you contented is a choice and one I think that we all agree on." Till had only smiled at him gratefully before going back to work, and it had been a beautiful afternoon that day, the sunlight streaking across the windowsill and across the singer's dark hair.
If things go as Till says, he has two years to go before he retires. They might as well establish their future now, when they have learnt enough from the past and when they still have enough time.
It's time to go back to Berlin, where it all started.
-----
Richard thinks about a lot of things whenever he's on a plane. This time is no different. He can't smoke in a plane, and he's not one who can sleep or read easily in one either, so over the years he's learnt to think intensely for hours at a time with his eyes closed. It saves him a lot of ennui. The flight attendant comes over with a tray of water, orange juice and coke - he declines politely and leans back into the seat instead, letting out a quiet sigh as he thinks of what's happened since they first started the tour and what's waiting for him when he lands.
A lot of things have happened, band activity-wise, even disregarding the tour. Three videos out from this album alone, and while they were touring too - they've been very busy. Till's really outdone himself this time, both with his work ethic and with his stunts. He's somehow developed another side to his masochistic tendencies - apart from loving the pain of being burnt, he's also become quite fond of having piercings as well. He keeps having little piercings on his body that just heal up later, and he lets it happen because he likes the ache that comes with it. Till actually pierced his cheek and had a wire drawn through it so that they could shoot one music video; he had an LED glowing in his mouth for ages afterwards, the thick black wire for it running straight through his cheek, and when he didn't have the light in he would take a mouthful of liquid and shoot it out of the hole and find it most childishly amusing. Richard winces at the memory of how inflamed that piercing became at times, and he certainly remembers being very glad when Till lost the plug for it and it closed up (much to his chagrin) - but thinking of the man being so dedicated to his art and deriving so much amusement from what must have been a terribly painful endeavour still brings a smile to his face. His judgment of Till's character nearly two decades ago haven't proved wrong in the slightest - always a hard worker, indeed.
Everyone else has also been fairly respectful about the relationship between Till and Richard. They have been giving the guitarist sly looks and knowing smiles after shows - there hasn't been another talk about it from anyone for sure, but he can see that they're all waiting patiently for something to happen. Richard is a little embarrassed but at the same time quite grateful that they are being so considerate - he doesn't know if they've done the same with Till, it would give the game away to do such things in the presence of the guitarist, but he doesn't doubt it somehow. Richard checks his watch - he should be in Berlin within an hour. Sure enough, the seatbelt signs come on, indicating that landing will take place soon.
Till himself hasn't been approaching the younger man onstage too much, no more than necessary, but every now and then he's given Richard small touches on the hand or a little quirk of the lips to show that the guitarist is very much always on his mind. He's been doing much of the same, and as a result, the excitable tension between them has only grown more than ever. Richard is making his way to Berlin partially so that he can do something about this; when he'd told Schneider of his plans for the future, keeping his voice lighthearted and mentioning no names, the drummer had been rather ecstatic at the implications. That alone had been enough to muster up his courage.
Finally, the most important thing - his daughter's flown the nest, headed off to start living life the way she wants to live. He's spent so much time worrying about her and giving her a proper family life, but Khira Li's grown up to be a fine young woman, and for the first time since he began fatherhood he can truly look back and tell himself that he's proud of what he's managed to do. This is the most important reason why Richard's left New York City - he wouldn't have considered it if she still needed to live close to him in the first place. But now that she's gone and the house is cold and empty, with neither of them having been extremely fond of it in the first place, there's no reason to stay anymore. So he's just packed up and left to find a place closer to his and Khira Li's birthplace, and that brings him back to why he's sitting in this plane.
The plane touches down and he almost stands up before they've come to a full stop; he's eager to get out and retrieve his luggage and hurry on his way. But he makes himself wait and savor the moment, taking in the sight of the airport coming into view; it's a sight that he's seen many times before, but it feels strangely special this time around. Perhaps it might be because for the first time in years, Germany is no longer just a place that he'd visit every now and then. He joins the queue of people disembarking from the plane and goes through the process of making his way through the terminals, having his passport checked and retrieving his luggage. It's a godsend that this airport is the highlight of Germanic efficiency because everything is a short, simple walk away and nothing is laid out in an overtly confusing manner. Richard steps outside the doors with his luggage, the warm early June breeze of Berlin caressing his cheek - and lets out a sigh. The familiar scent and the surprisingly-clear air refreshes and cheers him so much that he doesn't even reach for a cigarette this time. During this pause comes a little sound from his pockets - he rummages around, taking out his phone and smiling a little at the caller's name before he answers.
"Hallo?" Richard speaks out loud. "it's me... Ja, I've just landed in Berlin-Tegel... Give me half an hour or a little bit more, I'll be with you then. Are you sure you don't mind...? Ah," he nods, smiling to himself. "mmm, danke. Half an hour, then. Bis bald, Till."
As he walks out of the airport and towards the car rental place next to it, pulling his luggage along, he finds himself feeling surprisingly lighthearted despite the fact that he's carrying a few rather heavy things. He'll be staying with Till for a little bit while he finds himself a place to live nearby. He'd all been set up for staying at an inn or hotel, but Till had offered to house him for a 'month or more, as long as he helped out with the bills', and he'd taken up the offer in a heartbeat. The timing could not have been more perfect; an entire month alone with Till, no one and nothing to get in the way - it's exactly what he needed. He's not felt this light and happy in quite a while, and he almost feels like a young man again as he begins to whistle a familiar tune. A very familiar tune, for that matter; he'd know, because he wrote it himself ever so long ago. One of the standard Rammstein repertoires, too; 'Engel' was the first thing that the guitarist ever wrote that felt truly like his, even though he does still think that he wrote much more elegantly for Emigrate. Really, though, Till singing this song is one of his favourite moments during a gig, and it never gets old, even though he's seen it so much that he could probably go through that segment blindfolded and still not miss a single beat. This is also counting the fact that this segment has gone through frequent rewrites, sometimes in the middle of tours, and it still wouldn't make a single bit of difference.
The most recent incarnation of 'Engel' is Richard's favourite, and certainly (in his opinion) one of the best stunts they've ever devised in their entire time together. Till with huge metal wings that unfold and are set aflame throughout the song - some might think it ridiculous from just that description alone, but the sheer largeness of those wings, how they almost brush against the guitarists' backs when they open wide and how perfect they are for Till cannot be expressed in words alone. It's almost a shame that Richard can't just turn his back on the audience to stare at the older man through the entire performance of 'Engel', but he's caught enough glimpses of the full picture and has felt the heat from those wings whipping at his body and that is quite something as it is. Till's voice during this song, having matured to a greater extent since they made 'Sehnsucht' fourteen years back, is now strongly reminiscent almost of a Lucifer before the fall; the look in his eyes, blazing with emotion and the flames being reflected in them, always makes Richard's heart skip a beat. It is the definitive segment of their shows and they probably won't ever change it.
Richard goes through the process of renting a car surprisingly quickly; everything's running like clockwork. God must be helping him somehow. He's not slept in over fifteen hours and he should be exhausted, but he certainly doesn't feel it. As he turns the key in the ignition and heads in the direction of Till's flat, the pleasant summer breeze tickling his face as he drives along, he looks at the sun reflecting off the green leaves on the trees alongisde the road and is reminded of the ethereal look in Till's face as he sang 'Engel' in the final performance of their tour not a week ago.
'Gott weiß ich will kein Engel sein!'
He won't need to be. Till might as well already be one on earth. That's how Richard sees it.
-----
About twenty minutes after the phone call, Richard is ringing the bell to Till's flat, and the door opens mere seconds later as if the man had been standing behind it all along. From the way the door handle simply turns and opens, it wasn't even locked.
"I thought you were going to be half an hour?" Till inquires humorously from the doorway, wearing simple black trousers and a buttoned-up shirt like he always wears at home. The side of his left eyebrow is pierced as usual but he doesn't look as if he's gained any more in the few days that they've been apart. Richard smiles without a reply, standing opposite him and taking his figure in away from the harsh stage lighting and the various costumes, thinking of the time when Till was simply a quiet basket-weaver. The older man has certainly aged well. "do come in. I'll help carry those."
"Oh, there's no need," Richard says as he pulls his luggage indoors. This is it, he thinks as he steps into the door and into Till's flat, I will be with him for the next month. The older man wordlessly lead the way to what will be Richard's room for a while - he opens the door, revealing a clean room decorated in a simple and pleasing manner. There's a small bookshelf, mostly empty, with only a few notebooks and other hardbacks in it - the younger man is delighted to see that these are some of Till's own personal notebooks that he's filled in sometime during the past years, it can only mean the utmost trust from his part to leave them with Richard. The bed is a double and is white and clean, and there is a desk and chair with lamp as the singer always demands in a bedroom. Overall, it is a blank slate of a room, ready to be filled with the guitarist's possessions, but nevertheless given that characteristic Till touch. It's a pleasant thing to come and find for sure.
"So," Richard takes a deep breath and lets it out quietly, looking around the flat. "I came back."
"Yes," Till says. "looks like you have."
Pause.
"But I like you with your hair spiked up better."
This eases the tension and they both laugh, relaxing almost immediately. It really is strange how things work out in the end. Seventeen years ago Till had been alone in his workshop, weaving baskets, with Richard visiting him occasionally. Nearly twenty years have passed, and they've ended up with each other for company, back here again. Not quite the same flat and workshop and they've changed a lot in those years, but a lot more than they would have thought haven't changed in the slightest.
During the tour, both Till and Richard had kept to themselves mostly, only giving each other the occasional glances and keeping up the casual facade in public. But they have let things develop in their own way - Richard deliberately positioning himself closer to Till onstage, making it more clear that he was aware of the singer's approaches, and other things. Almost like a long, extended game, a puzzle where the pieces were coming into focus and slowly being fitted together. Things fell into place in a more clear way when he'd mentioned that he was coming back to live in Germany to Till while they were alone in the dressing rooms, earlier in the year, and that he wasn't sure what to do about the housing plans - and Till's response to that had been a simple, immediate: Come live with me. Just help out with the bills, and it's no problem. No objections whatsoever from Richard's part had been made, and Till had said it in such a way that he didn't invite any objections in the first place.
"I'm thankful for this, really. I hope I'm not imposing on you, Till."
"You're not imposing at all," Till chuckles; he rummages in his pockets and taking out a pack of cigarettes. "are there any more bags that are coming through?"
Richard nods. "Just a couple more things, my guitars are stored elsewhere in Berlin. Don't need to worry about those. Some other bits will be delivered tomorrow or the day after to here. If you don't mind that, of course."
"Give me a light?" Till asks him, leaning against the doorway as the younger man puts down his bags; his speech sounds slightly muffled as he has an unlit cigarette in his mouth. "and of course I don't mind. Just take your time and relax. After all, you will be here for a while. Make yourself comfortable, Richard."
Richard smiles at him and nods. He fishes out a cigarette from his own pocket and places it between his lips, along with a silver lighter - and in an uncharacteristically bold move, walks over and leans forward so the ends of their cigarettes are touching. Till stares at him with a bewildered look, their lips being mere inches apart, as Richard flicks the lighter open and holds it exactly so the flame lights both of their cigarettes.
"Vielen Dank," the guitarist smiles as he pulls back first, inhaling the blissful smoke and reveling in the other's expression. "I think I will."
Ever so slowly, a sly grin spreads on the older man's face, and mutual understanding dawns on them both. This is going to be a very interesting month or two.
They're alone, and for the first time since their heart-to-heart in 2008, devoid of other responsibilities. Around now is the time to get this out in the open. Richard is certain of that.
-----
Under Till's insistence, Richard takes a nap from two to six o'clock in the evening, after having unpacked his things over a period of three hours and having eaten a very quick and simple lunch. It's one of the most relaxing and blissful naps he's had in a while. When he wakes up, stretching his lean body and rubbing at his eyes, he spends a little while just lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling with a mild, contented smile on his face. This is where he ought to be.
"Richard?" Till peers around the door, and when the guitarist turns his head in his direction, looks relieved. "you look better rested than before."
"Mmm. I feel like it, for sure."
The singer laughs and dismisses the thanks with a casual wave of the hand. "No problem at all. If you want anything like a shower, or-?"
Richard briefly has an image of Till and him stepping into the shower together before he gets a hold of himself and reminds himself that the man isn't quite offering that. Not yet at least. He shakes off both his slight embarrassment and amusement and nods. "That would be nice."
"The towels are in the bathroom. After that, if you're hungry, I'm just preparing something for us both. Come to the kitchen afterwards, ja?"
Smile. Till is so considerate. "I will."
It is in this way that they're led to have their first dinner as flatmates together, the meal itself being simple and filling. After having a shower, Richard deliberately doesn't flatten his hair down and lets it spike up a little, having taken the other's comment to heart. The older man acting like a domestic is certainly quite humorous to look at despite being a fairly mundane and logical thing - he has lived vastly alone in the past years, of course he knows how to cook and take care of things by himself. But most aprons are bound to be quite small pressed against his muscular body, the one that he wears to cook is no exception, and Richard nearly gives into the urge to chuckle at the curiously endearing sight more than once. While the older man cooks he does his part by setting up the table and helping to carry some dishes; Till pops open a bottle of wine and leaves it to breathe by the fireplace.
"You're pretty good at this."
"Comes from living alone for a long time," Richard detects a hint of melancholy in the other's voice and nods in understanding. He's never really thought about it, but after Nele grew up, Till must have been keeping the flat by himself most of the time. Knowing the singer, he would have been appreciative of and at the same time saddened by the newfound loneliness. This makes the younger man feel wanted, and this in turn lightens his spirits considerably.
Conversation during dinner is of fairly normal things. Richard wouldn't have it any other way, really - Till and he are friends before anything else, and what better to affirm that than by just talking and catching up? They talk about the letters Till's sent him, about his newest poems, how good Berlin is compared to the stifling atmosphere of New York City. Much to the younger man's delight, for dessert Till gives them both a slice of Black Forest Cake on a plate.
"Did you make this yourself?"
"I did," Till looks quite proud. "I didn't have any Kirschwasser on me, but I think it turned out all right."
Richard chuckles. "Oh, Till, it can't legally be called Black Forest Cake without Kirschwasser!" the older man just rolls his eyes and sighs playfully as the guitarist cuts into the moist surface of the cake, spooning up the cherries and chocolate cream and savoring the taste.
"Is it good?"
"Mmmm," the younger man smiles and goes back for more. "this is delicious..." Till smiles and starts on his own slice. They eat in silence for a little while before Richard gets up and offers to fetch the wine bottle. A fine vintage, too. Till's really made an effort.
The older man asks him what's happened to his house over glasses of red wine, and Richard shrugs and says that it's been sold and he has no plans to return there. Till becomes a little solemn and nods, not pressing any further, and the younger man is grateful for that. He's surprised at how fast time's going by and how comfortable he feels - they're simply two old friends chatting over glasses of wine about their lives. A part of him thinks that he should be content with this and not make any moves that night, seeing as he's only just settled in. But at the same time, despite the casual friendliness between them there is still something more lingering beneath the surface, a sort of excitable tension, and now kind of feels like the time to delve into it. He can only hope for the best, and that he and Till are now connected enough to be able to understand each other's intentions.
"Sing something for me," Richard says as he places their newly-emptied bottle of wine aside. Till raises an eyebrow, looking very amused.
"What, in here? Right now? What would the neighbors say," he responds, knowing perfectly well that he's got a specially soundproofed room for that exact purpose. Richard humors him with a casual shrug.
"It's a celebratory occasion! If you cared about that at any point in the past ten years, you wouldn't be Till Lindemann of Rammstein fame."
"That's not fair, I'm not quite that antisocial," but Till's good as agreed to it, and they both stand up and head towards the soundproofed room together. Richard hoists himself up on the desk where Till keeps his writings and lyric sheets, recalling an old, similar memory and smiling at the thought, while the older man closes the door and sits down on the chair. He laces his fingers together and leans back, looking at the younger man with a questioning expression. "so. What would you like me to sing?"
"Anything," Richard says, an odd feeling swelling in his chest, keeping his voice as light and carefree as possible. "anything would do. As long as it doesn't require all of us five to play the accompaniment."
Till laughs good-heartedly. "Probably not anything like 'Mein Teil', then. Not as if that's a good one to keep us in cheerful spirits, anyway. But surely we need at least a bassline," he stands up and picks up a bass guitar from the corner, testing the strings and finding that they need a little tuning. He twists the machine heads and strums one string at a time while Richard watches him. "I haven't played the bass for so long, I wonder if I can even pull off anything beyond a very simple ostinato."
He lets out an appreciative sound when he's satisfied that the guitar is tuned. "Well? Any other suggestions?"
"How about 'Seemann'?" Richard suggests. If he's correct in his judgment, that was probably what Till was thinking of singing, as well. He is proven right when the singer nods in approval almost immediately. "you haven't sung that in a while. I'd like to hear it."
"I'll do my best. Just for you, since you ask so nicely."
This is spoken in a purposefully-neutral tone, but Richard can see past simple things like that now, and he picks up that Till is flirting with him. So in return, Richard chooses this particular moment to be bold. "I'll play the accompaniment," he says in a barely audible voice as he reaches over and gently plucks out the bass guitar from Till's hands. The singer blinks at him before a small perplexed smile appears on his face.
"Can you play bass at all?"
"I'm not inexperienced," the younger man responds as enigmatically as possible, keeping his gaze lowered. "besides, I want to play for you."
He's made his move. Till pauses and looks at him for a couple of seconds as he processes this, and Richard looks back at him. The singer finally nods (in a gesture that's probably more directed to himself than to Richard) and stands up so that Richard can take his seat. He settles down on the desk himself, looking at the window behind the guitarist for a second or two before he gestures at the younger man, asking him to begin.
A major - Richard repeats to himself in his head as he starts onto the ostinato riff, feeling a little nervous but excited at the same time. A flat minor - F sharp minor - C sharp minor -
"Komm... in mein Boot..." Till starts to sing, raising his head to look towards Richard and the setting sun. "ein Sturm kommt auf... und es wird Nacht..." the guitarist quietly settles into the rhythm, not quite familiar with this part of the song despite having heard it many times before. He was never low-key enough to be a brilliant bassist like Olli - and Till, come to think of it, although it must have been years since the singer's even played on one. But this is important enough that he has to get it right.
"Wo..." his voice is beautiful, higher than the norm and surprisingly innocent in its sincerity. "willst... du hin...?"
Richard glances up slightly to meet the singer's gaze, deep and green as the sea and filled with a torrent of emotions that he now can and wants to decipher - but ought not to, not yet, for fear of ruining the moment, "so ganz allein... treibst du da-von..."
But he does find himself feeling rather agonized, in the old longing way, when Till holds out his hand invitingly as he sings the next line. It takes him all his will to not actually take him up on the offer.
"Wer... hält deine Hand... Wenn es dich... nach un-ten zieht..."
Paul and Richard should be kicking in with their guitars and Schneider with his drums at this point if this was being played onstage. But it's not - there's just him and Till, all underscored with only a soft bass. Nevertheless, he doesn't miss the other's arm twitching lightly in a nigh subconscious reaction to this part of the song, in preparation for launching into a slow version of the Till Hammer as he used to do; he doesn't go through with it, but the sight gives Richard something to smile about to himself.
"Jetzt stehst du da... an der Laterne..." Till's hands briefly tighten around the edge of the desk before relaxing; he has a very small smile on his face, one that nevertheless softens his features considerably. "... mit Tränen... im Gesicht..." as the older man sings this line he reaches out and trails the tips of his fingers down Richard's cheek, his caress gentle and soft; the guitarist forces himself to be content with a stolen glance, focusing on the bassline and making sure that not a note is out of place. Every single little detail has to be perfect.
"...das Tageslicht fällt auf die Seite... der Herbstwind fegt die Straße leer..."
When they first released 'Herzeleid', that long time ago, 'Seemann' had been the song that had truly awakened Richard to Till's potential as a lyricist. And even then, it was not until 'Messer' had been published eight years later and Till had actually consented to giving people a portrait of himself as a young man that the use of all those metaphors had fallen right into place. Till is fond of talking about the sea, often talking of boats and harbours and that sensation of drifting and searching aimlessly. As the chords sink into his mind, Richard wonders whether that's why the older man conceived the boat stunt in the first place - Flake never liked it much, but Olli has been on the rubber boat many times before, and from what he's disclosed of his feelings on the stunt he's always found it to be a magical experience. Countless hands guiding him around the arena, away from the stage, back to the stage, being carried an ocean's worth of love and togetherness and yet being so alone. He and Till also worked on 'Seemann' together, and this used to be that one particular song where the bassist took center stage with the man while the guitarists took a little break.
Richard thinks he understands the emotion behind this song now, and this realization settles something deep within him.
Him and Till, floating together and yet apart in a shared sea of longing.
As Till continues singing, he walks past Richard and slowly across the room, eventually stopping to stare out of the window. He never misses a single note, and Richard turns his body to look at him and sees that the singer wants him to follow. But the cords for the amp and bass aren't long enough to allow him to do that, and besides, he quite likes how they're positioned. They're perfectly balanced in their unspoken desire, at opposite sides of the room but ever so close; the guitarist turns back and closes his eyes, allowing the other's baritone to wash over him and shivering ever so slightly with rapture.
"...die Zeit steht still... und mir ist... kalt..."
Till's eyes are closed, his arms subconsciously tightening around his own body as he sings the final line in a near whisper.
"... Kalt..."
-A major - A flat minor - F sharp minor - C sharp minor.
Richard fades out completely with a couple of phases before stopping. Without looking back at Till's direction, he then bends down to disconnect the amp and cord, keeping his movements slow and deliberate as he does so and stands up. Only then does he look back at the singer, seeing that Till hasn't moved an inch; with the bass guitar still in hand, Richard silently walks over to stand behind him. They're completely quiet, the older man's still standing with his serene expression reflected on the window and with his arms around himself and it feels like his voice is still lingering in the air. the guitarist's heart is beating so hard that he swears that if things got any quieter, his friend would be able to hear it loud and clear and there would be no fooling him - his chance is right here, right now, amongst the fleeting, magical moment created by him and Till in their perfect harmony-
And I am cold.
"Don't be," Richard murmurs, almost inaudibly, before he pulls Till into a longing embrace with the bass guitar pressed between their bodies.
His arms close tightly around the singer's waist, and the younger man buries his face into the back of his muscular shoulder; he's afraid to look into the window and see what kind of expression Till's wearing, but more than that, he utterly loves the feeling of sharing body heat like this, even if the older man isn't-
-his hands are caught and pulled away. Richard, feeling a little startled and perhaps hurt, takes a little step backwards before he realizes that Till has taken the bass guitar from between their bodies and has placed it down. They are only apart for maybe four seconds before the older man makes his move immediately afterwards, pulling Richard's body close in another embrace, grasping at him eagerly. He's not angry at me! Richard thinks dazedly, and this lends him the courage to look up into the other's face. The singer is staring at a fixed point across the room, not meeting Richard's eyes, but the sheer desperation in his grip assures the guitarist that he is meant to stay.
"We've always avoided discussing this," Till whispers, sounding somewhat restrained. Richard responds with only a little nod, biting his lip and nervously scanning the other's expression; but there is no disgust or unwillingness to be found there, only simple hesitation.
"We have," pause. "we can... not discuss it, if you want. It doesn't have to go any further than this."
Till's reaction surprises him, and possibly even the man himself. He grabs Richard's face in both hands, forcing him to meet his gaze, showing him for the first time how filled with desire his eyes are. "Nein," he growls in a voice that makes the guitarist shiver in both fear and excitement, before he takes the younger man's hand in his and all but runs out of the room with him in tow. He fumbles with the doorknob to his bedroom before twisting it and pushing the door open. Richard only had enough time to notice Till's double bed against the wall before he is pushed onto it, letting out a surprised gasp as his head hits the pillows. Till hoists himself onto the bed as well; he's sitting instead of lying down alongside the younger man but from the way he's poised, it's obvious that it's taking him a great deal of self-control to stop himself from doing anything beyond what's already happened. "I guess that's the song."
"Not just the song," Richard manages to say, still rather startled and his heart beating so rapidly that he has to force himself to calm down by gripping tightly at the sheets beneath him. "not just that at all. This has been going on since forever... so you knew."
"Yes. I knew. They all did," Till laughs shakily. "Flake confronted me on it at least twice. Olli too. You came to me when I was just a humble single father weaving baskets to provide a living and changed my life completely. God forbid that a lot hasn't happened since then, and I won't lie and say that it was in any way a smooth ride for either of us but you were always there, the single stable constant in my life... and I just... never thought that there would be time to..."
The older man suddenly pulls Richard closer to his chest, stroking the other's hair gently. His fingers dance lightly over exposed skin and Richard shudders at the sensation.
"Till," he whispers. "Till..."
"Shh," the older man shushes him with a quick kiss on the lips. It's a very brief kiss, barely a brushing of the lips at that, but the half-second of warmth and softness awakens something within Richard and he lets out a trembling moan escape his body. Strange, almost, how their first kiss lasts less than a second and yet still does just as good a job as a long, drawn-out French kiss would have done in awakening years' worth of passion locked inside him. Till doesn't seem to be yet aware of this, though, and even though Richard is quite happy to lie there and savor that moment, he thinks it courtesy to do it properly. He smiles softly at the younger man, brushing back a few stray locks of hair, before he lies down, locks his fingers beneath Richard's head and cradles him close as their lips meet for the second time.
It's hard to concentrate on anything that isn't Till when the older man is on top of him and kissing him like he's better than air. It's not the wildest kiss he's ever gotten in his life, which is strange because one might think that Till would be beyond wild and bestial in bed, but it just makes him happier because the singer is actually showing concern for him. Rather, it's a slow and expressive experience - Richard has never thought that there could be such a thing as an expressive kiss, beyond conveying the usual feelings of romance, lust, or love associated with the act anyway, but he's proven wrong. Before being a confirmation of all those three things, the kiss is a tentative first step of sorts. Till's lips are moving gently against his, pressing and brushing in all the right spots, and his hand is caressing his hair. It feels like what people think one's very first kiss should feel like, shy and gauche and yet with every breath and every slight movement introducing warmth and sunshine into the soul. Fumbling slightly, Richard nevertheless manages to wrap one arm around the other's waist, running the other hand along his back and stroking ever so gently. Till's lips are soft, far softer than the guitarist ever would have imagined; they're engaged in a swimmer's kiss, long and drawn out and agonizingly arousing. He certainly has the lung capacity for it. Richard is just wondering if the older man is ever going to breathe when Till breaks the kiss; he actually doesn't break it as much as simply trailing off gently around the younger man's mouth, smoothly moving up to caress the other's cheek with his lips and down to the tip of chin again before pulling away. He's seemingly very much in composure, unlike the guitarist who is panting heavily in an attempt to regain his breath.
"Fantastich," Till murmurs against his lips, the look in his eyes filled with utter adoration. And this is what suddenly awakens Richard to the gravity of the situation, that they've just kissed, have taken the plunge - and suddenly he is afraid. He came to Till, both seeking to lay their feelings down at each other's feet, and now that they've actually done it - it has not settled his mind the slightest but has only fueled the passion within him. And just as he has been afraid of letting on his feelings for the singer all this time, his own desire makes him terrified of what is going to happen next. He is terrified that once they go further, there will be no turning back; and even if they are perfectly happy and content with the results, what of the years to come and afterwards? Their time together will be blissful and brutally short - twenty years has passed them by already, another twenty will pass just as quickly, and before long one of them will depart this world and leave the other one in mourning. As Till said before - save yourself from heartache; save yourself from togetherness - with those words already deeply engraved in his heart from the countless times he listened to the singer's beautiful voice and from the experience of divorce, how can he just reach out and touch the older man and ask: will you love me for always?
"Can we really do this?" Richard whispers. The room feels oddly cold despite Till's warmth surrounding him.
"What do you mean?"
"You want me. Your lead guitarist."
"Yes. Of course. I have for a long time."
"Even though we're still bandmates and will be for at least two years more? Even after what happened with Caron?"
At the mention of Caron, Till seems to shrink back a little, looking down with a melancholy expression. Richard hurriedly tries to apologize when he sees this - no, God, Till, please don't pull away now, that was idiotic of me - but before he can do so, Till's eyes flicker upwards to meet his again. "Is that... is that what's holding you back?"
"No, Gott, no," the younger man moans as he shakes his head frantically. "that's not true. That's not it at all. What frightens me is that... is that one day, this has to end."
"Everything has to end eventually," Till assures him, his fingers trembling in emotion nevertheless as he holds the guitarist. "but you aren't just a one-night stand or a toy, you know that-"
"I don't-" the younger man closes his eyes and swallows hard, his heart pounding and feeling a rush of various emotions coursing through his body. "I don't mean just that, I'm scared because we're nearly fifty, because I wasted so much time without approaching you. I'm scared because one day we'll just be two men called Till Lindemann and Richard Kruspe who are growing old together. We already might as well be-"
"Richard."
The guitarist clutches at his body with a terrible intensity. "I've been your friend for over twenty years, Till. I hope to be for at least twenty more, and beyond that as well. But that's it, we're not young, Till... I regret it, that I didn't make any moves earlier when I could have... I didn't want to lose you, I never want to lose you for anything. I don't want to leave you behind or be left alone - and it can't end, not this, not after so long!"
"Richard."
Till's soft, imploring yet firm tone silences him, just like that. The look on the other's face is poignant, yet the melancholy is gone from it - instead, there is simply fondness and yearning. "You and I were side by side for over two decades. Even if nothing came of this - do you think anything but death could part us now, after what we've been through?"
The guitarist closes his eyes, feeling as if his heart is about to stop. "I never approached you in the times when I thought I should have, either," Till breathes in his ear with a mixture of desperation and longing, his hand brushing at Richard's cheek. "maybe it was for the best and we are much better off for having waited, but - oh, Richard, it was utterly agonizing, watching and wanting you all this time-"
"I know," and he indeed does. He takes Till's hand and dares to brush a kiss along the knuckles in response, murmuring against it: "I know..."
"We all die, Richard. That's inevitable," Till is still saying. "but if we're to regret that we waited for too long - then at least we can do it together during the time we have left, can't we? One day those years might fly by and they might seem like minutes, seconds - but it's better to have even a second than to have never tried at all, isn't it?"
Richard lets out a shaky laugh of relief and something else that he can't quite yet grasp. Till's hands are trembling, not quite daring to reach out again and make the decision final for both of them. If this relationship is going to work, Richard must do his part as well, so he grasps Till's face and gets to work acquainting his lips to every inch of exposed skin, starting with his forehead. The older man closes his eyes blissfully at the sensation, and Richard takes the opportunity to kiss his eyelids, visualizing the beautiful green eyes beneath them. With each touch of the lips it becomes clearer and clearer to both men that they have accepted the inevitable, and Richard feels almost as if he's about to cry because he can't believe this is becoming reality at last.
"You have..." he starts, his voice hoarse and breaking from emotion. "you have... no idea... how many times I've dreamed..."
Without waiting for Till's reply, he reaches out with trembling fingers to lightly trace the outline of the singer's lips, just as soft and defined as they were twenty years ago. Richard gasps quietly as Till flicks out his tongue in response, lightly caressing his fingertips with the tip of his tongue and even sensually taking one into his mouth. His trousers feel uncomfortably tight, and when he shifts against Till their thighs brush together and he feels that the older man's got the same problem. Till must have felt it too, he thinks to himself, because the singer's breath has hitched a little and he's grasping at Richard's shirt and tugging the garment off him. Oh my God, Richard thinks frantically, even though he's so excited that he can barely react beyond a gasp. The shirt is tossed away as Till begins to work on the other's belt and lets that clatter to the floor as well. Starting to think that maybe he should be reciprocating, the guitarist awkwardly reaches for the other's waist and feels quite silly when he realizes that Till isn't wearing a belt that he can take off. It's not a lost cause, though - he quickly amends the situation by unbuttoning the other's shirt, feeling Till's bare chest pressing against his as he gently slides it off his shoulders and reveals his torso. The sudden rush of warmth puts the guitarist ever more on edge as he becomes aware of their bodies - both of impressive bulk - pressing closer than ever before, and he's afraid that the slightest bit of clumsiness would cause even a second's worth of misgivings from the older man. "You'll never go anywhere without me ever again," Till whispers, his breath tickling the younger man's chest lightly.
He strokes Till's strong and muscular back with his hands, which are calloused heavily from years of playing the guitar; he no longer feels delicate sensations on his fingertips any more, but somehow the older man's heat makes its way through his skin almost immediately when they touch. One could brush a kiss on the tips of his fingers or burn them with a match and he wouldn't feel a thing, but as he traces every line and curve on the other's skin he can feel every detail as vividly as he'd always wanted to do. He's actually very surprised at how much of the older man's body he knows just by having looked and not much more. He lets his hand wander down to Till's abdomen, feeling for the old faded scar there, and although it's dark and he's only ever seen it he can find the spot almost immediately. Even with his calloused fingers and the scar having long since faded to near invisibility, he can feel it beneath his fingertips, raised and smooth and irrevocably a part of Till. The singer lets out a low growl at the touch, sounding almost like a purr, and he hides a smile.
It is at this point that Richard realizes that Till doesn't have much clue as to what they should be doing next, either. They've made a huge leap, and suddenly they're lying half naked in bed with each other without a concrete idea of what's about to happen; he can feel the older man hesitating, unsure as to whether to proceed with the next step or not, or even what the next step is for that matter.
"Wo wilst du hin...?"
The other's song arises in his memory again, prompting Richard to try taking the lead. He moves up a little from his position, taking hold of Till's face between his hands and licking slightly at his lips to moisten them. The singer looks a little puzzled, especially when Richard starts stroking his hair gently, but soon figures out his intentions and relaxes, closing his eyes and angling his lips just so that the younger man can capture them with a small incline of the head.
Okay, move slow, don't let him be nervous - it's for him, make him feel-
Oh. Ohh. This feels amazing.
Neither of them are strangers to those kinds of kisses either - in fact it'd be a lot safer to assume that they were strangers to anything remotely sexual decades ago - and for a moment Till doesn't actually react as he registers the other's tongue touching his. But slowly, gently, he returns the gesture while letting the younger man lead. It's so easy to make a French kiss into an extremely awkward or even vulgar act if just one partner isn't doing it right, so it's quite charming that Till's trusting him full-heartedly, even adopting a slightly more submissive look to go with it. Till's tongue feels pleasant and when he lightly pushes against the tip of it the man shivers a little - he must be ticklish. Adorable. And the taste - God, all the time spent fantasizing about this moment and he's never thought about the taste - is surprisingly sweeter than he expected it to be, hot and soft and mingled with the fine hint of cherries and rich wine and Richard is completely and utterly intoxicated. He runs his hands down Till's back slowly, palms massaging the skin, feeling a shudder traveling through the other's body at the contact; reaching the top of his trousers, Richard hesitates only a little before he slips one hand down it, resting and tightening his grip on the other's backside slightly. He's being daring, and Till breaks the kiss with what sounds like a whimper at the touch, a thin trail of saliva connecting their lips; such a sound is unlike him, and yet so tender and melodic that Richard feels a burst of immense affection and fondness welling up inside him. Something tells him that they're moving quite fast, perhaps too fast for now; Richard pushes away the thought, being less interested in satisfying his lust and more desperate to just get as much contact as possible. He wants Till to share this sentiment, to feel the same as now - he wants Till to desire him too-
"I want you," Richard gasps out against Till's lips, feeling the other inhale sharply in response. "all those years I've wanted you... touch me, Till, please."
The older man doesn't need further prompting. Having been given a direction to go, he pushes Richard's hands away from his body just so he can unbutton his trousers and slide them off his legs, obviously intending to finish what he was doing earlier; the younger man does the same to himself to save Till the trouble, wanting more to savor the other's heat on his bare skin. Their legs touch and brush against each other, the friction reassuring and warm. Eager to feel and taste more of the other's skin, Richard impatiently pulls him down before Till can adjust himself to a more comfortable position, letting out a soft involuntary whine as the singer resists his strength and simply pins him down with one hand.
"Behave yourself, then," he growls, a dark, mischievous glint in his eyes. He keeps his movements slow and agonizing as he trails his other hand down the guitarist's biceps, down to his shoulders and neck, venturing downwards in a mildly curious sort of way. Richard gasps and exhales, shuddering a little Till runs both of his palms down his chest and then back up again to cup his face.
"You're fine," Till whispers hoarsely, running his hand along the contours of Richard's muscles and over his features and reassuring them both of something that they can't pinpoint yet. The younger man kisses the tips of his fingers with desperation, feeling how rough they are from all the burns he's received over the years and not even half caring. "you're beautiful, Richard. Gott."
He dives down to kiss the younger man without waiting for a response, assaulting his lips and face mercilessly. Richard whimpers and clenches his eyes shut, not trusting himself to be able to speak coherently or even look at the older man in the eyes, instead relying on touch to convey his emotions. A shudder and a moan escapes him when he feels Till lick down the hollow of his neck to his clavicle; his tongue feels hot and wet and a little rough like a cat's against his skin, and it's most definitely a pleasurable sensation. Richard is being worshipped all over and he's so turned on that he can barely breathe. He cries out loud when Till licks the tips of his nipples; he gently closes his lips around one pert nub after teasing them to hardness, sucking and biting lightly. Till reaches up to pinch and lightly tweak the other, making Richard squirm beneath him, increasingly higher-pitched whimpers spilling from his lips. The older man lets out a low chuckle at this before shifting up a little, straddling the guitarist; he's incredibly hard, and so is Richard. He gently grinds his hips against Richard's, forcing him to cry out in lustful agony and reminding him that only two layers of fabric lie between their bare arousals, the hot, hard friction between them making him feel as if he's about to explode right there and then. Quite anticlimatic, he tells himself as an attempt to slow down his breathing, it'd be a real downer if that happened, but this just feels so good...
But Till isn't out of surprises yet. He makes his way down to the waistband of the other's boxers, licking and stroking, but stops exactly at that spot, Richard hoists himself up on his elbows with some difficulty and manages to look down at himself, puzzled at the sight of the older man nuzzling his stomach. The light rasp of his stubble and the warmth of Till's breath against his skin make him collapse back down in pleasure, but it's not long before the singer stops entirely and rolls off his body, settling down by Richard's side. Till's eyes are darker than ever with lust, his pupils fully dilated, and he seems quite reluctant to be just lying there - but he certainly isn't going any further. He moves his hand towards Till's waist and runs it down to his thighs to see if the man's just waiting for him to return the favor. He's proven wrong when the older man pushes his hand away from his body; he holds onto it and brushes his lips lightly over the knuckles, but doesn't do anything else. This isn't what he expected at all.
"Till..." Richard whispers, confused. "why... did you..."
"I don't want this to be over so quickly."
Richard thinks about it before accepting this answer as valid. He's burning for more, of course, but Till is right, it ought not to be over just in one night's worth of passion when there is more, so much more between them. With that in mind, he becomes immensely glad that Till knew where to stop. It makes their time together much more valuable, because they aren't giving in to their desires straight away and risk cheapening what they've built up for over two long decades. Just the fact that they're lying in bed together, naked except for their boxers and hard for each other, is more than enough. Till is panting next to him, his eyes blazing with desire; Richard feels very much of the same, but they've got the entire rest of their lives ahead of them to explore, and really - they are in no hurry. He's thinking so hard about these things, however, that he doesn't yet notice that older man has taken his contemplative silence as one of disappointment.
"Es tut mir leid," Till murmurs, startling Richard into looking back up at him. The singer looks a little nervous and embarrassed. "I... I led you on too far, didn't I? I could barely help myself..."
"Mmm," the guitarist shakes his head a little. He's actually quite flattered. "no. On the contrary... I think... there's a lot for me to look forward to now."
Till's expression reverts into one of relief. He pats the spot right next to him and Richard shifts over, letting out a soft moan when their bodies press and rest against each other.
"I have cared for and will always care for you," Till says, leaving a trail of hot kisses down his shoulder and chest. "and I have always been and always will be yours, no matter what."
The guitarist responds by pulling him up for another kiss on the lips, letting his hands explore Till's body, resting at the small of his back and making the older man growl softly in pleasure. He breaks the kiss and buries his face on the crook of Till's neck, still only half believing that this is really happening, that the singer's returning his affections with the same (if not more) longing and desperation. But he'll accept it within the night. There's no other reason to doubt their relationship any more. The sensation of Till's index finger tracing shapes on the skin of his back while holding him in his arms affirm a wordless promise, that there will be more nights like those; soon they will be able to go further, much further, and they will have no need to hold back because neither of them would allow the other to resist. It feels like the most natural thing.
"Ich habe dich lieb," Richard whispers to him. Till is worth more than clichéd phrases; the usual lovers' cooing of 'ich liebe dich!' is arguably too strong and far too common. He's hardly a master of words like Till is, but what he said is so much better, infinitely softer and more fitting for the older man who is his closest friend, companion and now-lover. Richard knows that he will understand.
"I love you," the singer gives his reply in English, a soft, sensual murmur against his lips. It's simple and finite and so absolutely truthful that Richard feels no need to question it.
He's been searching fruitlessly when what he wanted and needed was right next to him all this time. Till's been with him, holding his hand, since the beginning - it was a long journey, getting to this point, and it'd be a lie to say that along the line there weren't hurt feelings and misunderstandings. But there are no more obstacles any more, he can rest now in Till's arms and soothe them both for as long as they're together. That is one of Richard's many purposes in life, one that will last him for decades to come.
He needed Till just as much as Till needed him. That was the answer, plain and simple all along, and the seemingly-endless searching and longing comes to an end just like that. Richard sighs and relaxes in the other's arms, inhaling his scent and smiles as he feels the man nuzzling the shell of his ear and murmuring: "Welcome home."
It's taken them a very long time to realize it, but the meaning of it is clear; this story has a happy ending.
-----
'... Ich fühle dich, ich verlass dich nicht.'
-------------------------------
Author's Note: 'Silence' is finally finished! Will they or won't they - yes, they do. Happy endings are not my forte but I think this turned out fine. Hope the fluff in this chapter was worth everything they went through! This is now my headcanon for why they're being so close and affectionate with each other in the Made In Germany 1995-2011 Tour compared to the ones that came before. I now will go and see them with a light heart on the 29th of February, 7:30pm in Newcastle, England!
Communication is a major theme in 'Silence'. I think Till and Richard are actually a lot closer to each other in the first chapter than they are in the next... six or so, despite the time passage, because as their lives become more and more complex, more things inevitably get in the way even though their feelings get stronger. And this leads to a lack of true communication - you could also add in the phone motifs present in the story and in the side-stories as another version of this, where making calls (and failing to get through in some cases) is constantly present. I wanted Till's voice and lack of it to be a palindrome: from honest heart-to-hearts, then giving advice and enchanting Richard with the meaning of his songs, and then to arguing, to disembodied phone calls and answering machine recordings, and finally to complete silence before it goes back uphill once more. Richard and Till follow this pattern along until they return to their original honesty and love. I wanted to develop Till in Richard's point of view as a singer and a human being with his lyrics, descriptions of his voice, and through depriving him of all those things once the factors were established - a silent Till was thus very challenging to write. But in the end, it came through. 'I love you' is an overused phrase, sadly, and yet it is such an important declaration! That is why I wanted them to say that to each other once and only once in this fic, and never in the form of 'Ich liebe dich'. Because they're much more, so much more than that, and that's the whole point I was trying to prove by writing this behemoth of a story. I've had this ending staring at me since December and it was so hard being as vague as possible to not spoil. xD
I will leave you with the translations of the quotes used above and below the chapter: it's from 'Führe Mich' which comes from the bonus disc of 'Liebe Ist Für Alle Da'. I thought of it as Richard and Till's call and response.
Führe mich... halte mich...

Ich fühle dich, ich verlass dich nicht.
Lead me... hold me...

I feel you, I will not abandon you.
Thank you for loving and consistently rating this fic highly despite it being rated NoSex and featuring thousands of words of navelgazing. I will hopefully be back with some more AFF-worthy material soon! *heart*
- 8
- 9
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

Silence