Poetic Tragedy -A Tokio Hotel Fic-
« previous entry | next entry »
Jun. 3rd, 2012 | 02:18 am
i feel: sleepy
i'm listening to: Subete e by Alice Nine
~*~Tom KaulitzXBill Kaulitz, Mention of; Bushido and Ryan Ross (of The Young Veins, an ex-guitarist of Panic At The Disco) || Approx 942words || R || Angst(?) || Beta : Clark aka theendermen ~*~
You didn’t care with how hard the rain was falling outside and you didn’t mind the coldness of air that caressed your naked body. Why would you give a damn with anything when you have a wonderland beneath your body? You didn’t even bother with the ringing sound of your mobile phone, you just took a glance on it and continued to thrust; faster and harder.
He writhed and moaned and you enjoyed it. The brownish-short hair that was damp and messy, the closed brown-eyes that opened up as you asked him to, the sweat that dropped mercilessly through pores of his raw skin, the legs that tighten around your firm waist which alarmed you that he was almost ‘there’… Those were the most delightful times you found, before you fell upon his chest and let the seed explode inside him. You were both lacking air. He breathes and you breathe greedily, he’s waiting…
You pulled out of him gently and you saw the vestige of your libido leaking down to the purplish sheet… disgusting. Disgusting. You are disgusting, aren’t you?
“Are you leaving now?” the question flicked you back from your brief reverie and you saw him with those eyes, eyes that plead with you to stay… always pleading with you to stay.
“I have a photoshoot.” You were lying and you knew that. He always knew you had lied to him and you let him, because you’re helpless, because you’re selfish; because you’re always selfish and always helpless.
Your phone rang for the second time now, he’s waiting… and you immediately headed to bathroom to wash away the invisible dirt on you; hoping that the soap could erase the scent of the brunette. Always hoping that it could wash away the thing you named Denial. The thing that is always there but you refuse to admit, or, sometimes, pretend doesn't exist. You were on the latter now, you knew that much.
He was asleep when you come out after your purifying ritual. His lower body was covered by the blanket while his upper body showed your mouth's creation from neck to waistline, from slight red to dark-red. You adored them because they looks like a symbol of ownership to you. Somehow, a tint of satisfaction slipped into you… of course, along with a mount of guilt.
Now you’re dressed and ready to leave. You had checked your appearance in the mirror and you already made sure that your mobile and wallet are in your pocket already. The last thing you check is the sleeping man, whose face is peaceful. Your eyes stayed still on his lean features, and then you climbed up the bed to place a kiss on Ryan’s cheek. Sorry.
Then you closed the door… he’s waiting.
He was walking to your car with a sullen face and you hate that kind of face. “Goddamnit, Tom. What took you so long?” He climbed up to the seat beside you. “Are you trying to steal Georg's title? 'Unpunctual'?”
Even though it’s save to tell your brother that you just had had sex, you decide to lie; “It’s raining”.
“There’s a thing called an umbrella, and you don’t even need it.” Bill is pissed. You made him wait too long. “Tom, you drive a CAR. Don’t lie. You overslept, didn't you?”
'Sorry' is your answer. You don’t want him to know about Ryan. You don’t want to talk about Ryan with Bill or anyone else in the band or anyone who called themselves ‘friend’ to you or…whoever. No one needs to know about Ryan.
“People from the magazine told me that the photographer they use is a famous one and he has another photoshoot after me. I don’t want to waste his time and screw up his schedule,” you heard Bill sigh. “I won’t disturb your resting time if Bushido isn’t busy today.”
The name that came out of your brother’s mouth is the name you hate the most. There is no specific reason why you hate him. Really. He never hurt you or your brother or scratched your Cadillac. He's done nothing bad to you…
“Oh Tom, by the way,” Bill broke the silence, “I can’t accompany you to the racing car of Stephan Raab tomorrow.” You anticipated his next sentence. “I have a date.”
…Right. The rapper didn’t do anything bad toward you but steal your brother; steal half of your life.
Your brother forgives you easily. Maybe because he’s sorry for not accompanying you tomorrow… Or maybe because it’s Bill. Whatever. You’re too busy praying to God to douse Hamburg with heavy rain tomorrow.
“Don’t leave Hamburg yet, I need you”
Your world is burning bright and complete whenever your little brother is around. You think you are the sun that always shines on him every day.
The American boy does not exist when your twins are in your sight. The only time when you remember his name is when you’re in urge to touch your brother.
“Please Ryan, I really need you here..Don’t leave”
Your world is Bill Kaulitz.
You hate the fact that he came from the same womb as you. The same birthday, the same gender, the same face, the same last name, the same parents, and all the same things that you share with him for years and what will be years more to come. You hate them a lot. You want to deny it, but you fail. And then you think you wouldn't be fond of him if he wasn't a Bill Kaulitz.
And Ryan Ross?
He is a pseudo-Bill for you.
“Fine, Tom. I’ll cancel my flight for you”
Note; Title is taken from The Used's song