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steins_stories
Title: Epiphany
Author:
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steinsgrrl Fandom: Tokio Hotel
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I in no way intend to insinuate that any of the below actually happened. It is simply a piece of written entertainment based on the public personas of real people.
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Adult Content
Summary:Georg is terrified when he realizes the extent of his feelings for Bill. He can only run for so long.
Georg froze, his heart in his throat. He’d caught Bill watching him downstairs in the lobby. Maybe he’d finally come to talk.
Suddenly a little nervous, more than hopeful, he strode quickly to the door. He paused, took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door.
Georg let go of that breath in one hard gust.
“Hey.” Disappointment thick in his throat, the bassist turned his back and walked away from the door.
“Well, it’s nice to see you, too.” Gustav followed him into the room and brushed past him to the large windows that took up the majority of one wall.
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be an ass.” Georg tossed the remote on the bed and fell heavily into an armchair. “I’ve just had a rough week.”
Gustav opened the heavy drapes, first one side, then the other, letting the sunshine stream in through polished glass. Georg didn’t seem to notice; he was slumped down in the chair, his eyes closed, his face tilted toward the ceiling.
Gustav lingered a moment by the window, studying Georg, then moved to the bed and piled the pillows in front of him.
He began to nervously fluff the pillows, thoroughly plumping them up, then arranging them on the bed.
Georg stared at the diminutive drummer. “What are you doing, Gus?”
Gustav stopped. He looked at the pillow in his hands, then back at Georg, a confused look on his face. Finally, he shrugged, and threw the pillows up by the headboard. Gustav smoothed down the blankets, then sat at the end of the bed near the bassist.
“Look, you need to spill it, Georg.”
Georg looked up at him, his face a mask of pain and apprehension.
“Talk to me. What’s going on with Bill?”
Georg groaned and covered his face with his hands. “It’s so obvious, huh?”
Gustav snorted. “Georg, you two literally can‘t be in the same room together without one of you bolting. Yeah, pretty obvious.”
One arm wrapped around himself, the other hand covering his mouth, Georg stared wide-eyed at Gustav, shaking his head.
“I’m such an idiot.” He jumped up from his chair and began to pace at the end of the bed…over to the window, back to the chair, over to the window.
Gustav sat on the bed and watched him. He didn’t move and he didn’t speak. He sat and watched Georg.
Georg’s nervous energy began to bleed out, and he slowed his pacing, stopping by the window.
“I fucked up, Gus.” Georg released a deep sigh. He was going to spill it. Gustav might have a hard time hearing it, but Georg was going to spill it anyway.
“I thought it was what he wanted. He started it, didn’t he? Did you see him at the club?” Gustav nodded, but Georg hadn’t looked for his answer. Instead, he turned his back further on his friend and rested his forehead on the cold glass.
“We went to the hotel with that girl. We started fooling around, and he just watched. He didn’t watch us, though, he watched me. His eyes were on me the whole time, I could feel it. I could feel…him.” His breath quickened with the memory, and the glass began to fog over.
“She asked him to join, so he did. We didn’t touch each other at first, but Gustav, he reached out to me. He reached out and touched me! And then…” Georg’s hands pressed against the glass, and he ducked his head.
Georg felt Gustav come up behind him.
“Did you… erm…well, did you have…sex? With him?”
Georg’s fingers curled into the glass, fingertips squeaking against it.
“Yeah. Well, I guess. I didn’t, you know…stick it in him.” Georg groaned a little, embarrassed to be telling this to his friend. “But, yes. And now he won’t look at me, Gustav. He did that, he chose to do that, and now…he won’t even look at me.”
The sob tore through Georg before he could stop it, before he could hold it back, and once set free, it multiplied. His shoulders shook, his face crumpled, and he let loose. All his pent-up frustration, all his pain, all his anxiety rushed out through panting breaths and streaming tears. His hands trembled on the glass, and as he moved to tuck them under his arms, he felt Gustav’s hand on his shoulder.
Georg turned to his friend, and Gustav wrapped him up in his arms and held on. He held on until the sobs tapered off, until the tears slowed, until the breaths evened out.
~~~ooo~~~
“I can’t believe you talked me into watching that damn movie again!” Georg laughed again, shoved Gustav’s shoulder and scooted off the bed. He dug around in the mini-bar and pulled out two colas. He turned, holding them up and raised an eyebrow in question to his friend.
Gustav nodded, and Georg brought both bottles back to the bed, leaning up against the headboard as he handed one to the drummer. The bassist was still smiling as he took his first sip.
“I can’t tell you how much I needed this.” Georg’s soft statement broke through the silence as Gustav turned the dvd off. “Thank you.”
The blonde chuckled next to him. “You don’t have to thank me, man…”
Georg felt the pause, and shot a quick glance at his friend before fixing his eyes on the bottle he was holding.
“But…?” He could feel where this was going, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go there again tonight. He was still too raw.
“But you know this doesn’t change anything.” Gustav’s voice was soft and mild, as if he were afraid of startling a wild animal.
“I know it doesn’t.”
“What are you going to do?”
Georg grunted a derisive laugh. “I have no idea. He obviously doesn’t want to talk to me. Can’t stand to be in the same room with me.” He unscrewed the bottle cap jerkily and tipped the bottle up for a long drink. He dropped the bottle down quickly, the fizzy liquid splashing a little up on his nose as he began to choke hard.
Gustav grabbed the bottle and smacked him on the back a couple times, as Georg sputtered and his eyes filled with tears.
“Dammit! I hate that, “ he laughed weakly as he began to get the choking under control and took a few tentative breaths. “I’m okay.”
“Look, you guys are going to have to find a way to deal with this.” Georg started to interrupt but Gustav continued on quickly, “I know! But you can’t control what Bill does…”
Georg shot him a look and snorted.
“Yeah, okay, no one controls what Bill does. Not my point here. The point is, you have to decide what you’re going to do, and what the consequences might be.”
Georg ducked his head, tucking his chin into his chest. “That’s the problem, Gus. I’ve done nothing but sit and think about this, and think about Bill, and look at him and remember and hurt until I can’t think any more.”
Placing his drink on the nightstand, he pulled himself up from the bed again and scanned the room for his cigarettes. He spotted them on the dresser by the television and grabbed them, pushing out of his mind the slight possibility that he should really cut down on his smoking. He felt Gustav watching him as Georg opened the window and leaned against the sill as he lit the smoke.
Gustav got up to join him by the window, rubbing his arms a little, a chilly night breeze invading the room and making the ember in Georg’s cigarette glow brighter.
“What do you want?”
Georg stared into the city lights beyond the glass and took a deep drag from his cigarette. He held the smoke in, almost needing the distraction of the pain in his lungs. Just short of a cough, he blew the smoke out the window.
“I want him to be happy.” He rubbed his eyes and looked at his friend. “And right now, he’s not happy.”
Gustav sighed and leaned back to rest on the window-sill, arms crossed.
“As I see it, you have two choices. You can either leave things the way they are and hope that he gets over it, or you can tell him how you feel.”
“Yeah, those choices suck.” Georg looked around for an ashtray but settled eventually for dropping the lit butt in the toilet. On the way back from the bathroom, he paused at the nightstand to sip from his cola.
“But Georg, can you live with yourself if you never tell him? If you never take the chance?”
Georg sat with his back against the headboard again and waited for Gustav to continue.
“Because it seems to me that nothing is going to be the same anyway. You either get to deal with this weirdness, and Tom,” The bassist looked up and they grimaced together, and then laughed together because of it. “or you tell him. Talk to him. Corner him, if you have to. He’s either going to be freaked out, in which case, you still have the weirdness you’re living with anyway, or…”
Georg looked into his friends face, searching Gustav’s dark eyes, “Do you think it’s even possible, Gus?”
“Georg, you know Bill. Anything is possible.”
~~~ooo~~~
Georg awoke the next morning knowing what he had to do.
The interview that afternoon seemed to last hours. Bill was beautiful, as always, but Georg could see the strain and exhaustion on his face, and he noticed Bill drop his gaze each time Tom or the interviewer referred to Georg. Guilt stung him, but he told himself to be patient. Just breathe and wait. Breathe and wait.
Soundcheck was a tense affair. Georg watched Bill, but kept his distance from the young singer. He wanted to be careful. He didn’t want to push him, and he certainly didn’t want to spook him any further. So he went through the same routine he could follow in his sleep, and soon enough, the four men found themselves in the green room, waiting for the concert to start.
In the silence of that room, Georg sat on a black vinyl couch and stared at his hands folded in his lap. The longer this took, the longer he had to wait until he could talk to Bill. The longer he had to wait, the more nervous he got.
He glanced up, cleared his throat and reached for his water.
The noise, or maybe it was the movement, seemed to catch Bill’s attention, and his eyes met Georg’s.
Georg sucked a sharp breath in and dropped his eyes back to his lap, but not before catching the ghost of a smile on Bill’s lips. He felt his face pinken and grow warm, and his own smile grew wide.
Tom’s confused voice brought his head up again. “What the hell is going on with you two?”
Scooting away from Bill slightly and turning to face him, Tom looked from one man to the other and back again, narrowing his eyes when neither of them answered. “Are you guys planning something? Whatever it is, I want you to know, I will retaliate.”
Tom poked a finger at both of them, the tiniest smirk taking the edge off the threat. “You just watch your shampoo bottles, that’s all I’m saying.”
Bill looked at Georg, raised his eyebrows, and the tension died a quiet death, drowned in the sound of their laughter.
Suddenly a little nervous, more than hopeful, he strode quickly to the door. He paused, took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door.
Georg let go of that breath in one hard gust.
“Hey.” Disappointment thick in his throat, the bassist turned his back and walked away from the door.
“Well, it’s nice to see you, too.” Gustav followed him into the room and brushed past him to the large windows that took up the majority of one wall.
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be an ass.” Georg tossed the remote on the bed and fell heavily into an armchair. “I’ve just had a rough week.”
Gustav opened the heavy drapes, first one side, then the other, letting the sunshine stream in through polished glass. Georg didn’t seem to notice; he was slumped down in the chair, his eyes closed, his face tilted toward the ceiling.
Gustav lingered a moment by the window, studying Georg, then moved to the bed and piled the pillows in front of him.
He began to nervously fluff the pillows, thoroughly plumping them up, then arranging them on the bed.
Georg stared at the diminutive drummer. “What are you doing, Gus?”
Gustav stopped. He looked at the pillow in his hands, then back at Georg, a confused look on his face. Finally, he shrugged, and threw the pillows up by the headboard. Gustav smoothed down the blankets, then sat at the end of the bed near the bassist.
“Look, you need to spill it, Georg.”
Georg looked up at him, his face a mask of pain and apprehension.
“Talk to me. What’s going on with Bill?”
Georg groaned and covered his face with his hands. “It’s so obvious, huh?”
Gustav snorted. “Georg, you two literally can‘t be in the same room together without one of you bolting. Yeah, pretty obvious.”
One arm wrapped around himself, the other hand covering his mouth, Georg stared wide-eyed at Gustav, shaking his head.
“I’m such an idiot.” He jumped up from his chair and began to pace at the end of the bed…over to the window, back to the chair, over to the window.
Gustav sat on the bed and watched him. He didn’t move and he didn’t speak. He sat and watched Georg.
Georg’s nervous energy began to bleed out, and he slowed his pacing, stopping by the window.
“I fucked up, Gus.” Georg released a deep sigh. He was going to spill it. Gustav might have a hard time hearing it, but Georg was going to spill it anyway.
“I thought it was what he wanted. He started it, didn’t he? Did you see him at the club?” Gustav nodded, but Georg hadn’t looked for his answer. Instead, he turned his back further on his friend and rested his forehead on the cold glass.
“We went to the hotel with that girl. We started fooling around, and he just watched. He didn’t watch us, though, he watched me. His eyes were on me the whole time, I could feel it. I could feel…him.” His breath quickened with the memory, and the glass began to fog over.
“She asked him to join, so he did. We didn’t touch each other at first, but Gustav, he reached out to me. He reached out and touched me! And then…” Georg’s hands pressed against the glass, and he ducked his head.
Georg felt Gustav come up behind him.
“Did you… erm…well, did you have…sex? With him?”
Georg’s fingers curled into the glass, fingertips squeaking against it.
“Yeah. Well, I guess. I didn’t, you know…stick it in him.” Georg groaned a little, embarrassed to be telling this to his friend. “But, yes. And now he won’t look at me, Gustav. He did that, he chose to do that, and now…he won’t even look at me.”
The sob tore through Georg before he could stop it, before he could hold it back, and once set free, it multiplied. His shoulders shook, his face crumpled, and he let loose. All his pent-up frustration, all his pain, all his anxiety rushed out through panting breaths and streaming tears. His hands trembled on the glass, and as he moved to tuck them under his arms, he felt Gustav’s hand on his shoulder.
Georg turned to his friend, and Gustav wrapped him up in his arms and held on. He held on until the sobs tapered off, until the tears slowed, until the breaths evened out.
~~~ooo~~~
“I can’t believe you talked me into watching that damn movie again!” Georg laughed again, shoved Gustav’s shoulder and scooted off the bed. He dug around in the mini-bar and pulled out two colas. He turned, holding them up and raised an eyebrow in question to his friend.
Gustav nodded, and Georg brought both bottles back to the bed, leaning up against the headboard as he handed one to the drummer. The bassist was still smiling as he took his first sip.
“I can’t tell you how much I needed this.” Georg’s soft statement broke through the silence as Gustav turned the dvd off. “Thank you.”
The blonde chuckled next to him. “You don’t have to thank me, man…”
Georg felt the pause, and shot a quick glance at his friend before fixing his eyes on the bottle he was holding.
“But…?” He could feel where this was going, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go there again tonight. He was still too raw.
“But you know this doesn’t change anything.” Gustav’s voice was soft and mild, as if he were afraid of startling a wild animal.
“I know it doesn’t.”
“What are you going to do?”
Georg grunted a derisive laugh. “I have no idea. He obviously doesn’t want to talk to me. Can’t stand to be in the same room with me.” He unscrewed the bottle cap jerkily and tipped the bottle up for a long drink. He dropped the bottle down quickly, the fizzy liquid splashing a little up on his nose as he began to choke hard.
Gustav grabbed the bottle and smacked him on the back a couple times, as Georg sputtered and his eyes filled with tears.
“Dammit! I hate that, “ he laughed weakly as he began to get the choking under control and took a few tentative breaths. “I’m okay.”
“Look, you guys are going to have to find a way to deal with this.” Georg started to interrupt but Gustav continued on quickly, “I know! But you can’t control what Bill does…”
Georg shot him a look and snorted.
“Yeah, okay, no one controls what Bill does. Not my point here. The point is, you have to decide what you’re going to do, and what the consequences might be.”
Georg ducked his head, tucking his chin into his chest. “That’s the problem, Gus. I’ve done nothing but sit and think about this, and think about Bill, and look at him and remember and hurt until I can’t think any more.”
Placing his drink on the nightstand, he pulled himself up from the bed again and scanned the room for his cigarettes. He spotted them on the dresser by the television and grabbed them, pushing out of his mind the slight possibility that he should really cut down on his smoking. He felt Gustav watching him as Georg opened the window and leaned against the sill as he lit the smoke.
Gustav got up to join him by the window, rubbing his arms a little, a chilly night breeze invading the room and making the ember in Georg’s cigarette glow brighter.
“What do you want?”
Georg stared into the city lights beyond the glass and took a deep drag from his cigarette. He held the smoke in, almost needing the distraction of the pain in his lungs. Just short of a cough, he blew the smoke out the window.
“I want him to be happy.” He rubbed his eyes and looked at his friend. “And right now, he’s not happy.”
Gustav sighed and leaned back to rest on the window-sill, arms crossed.
“As I see it, you have two choices. You can either leave things the way they are and hope that he gets over it, or you can tell him how you feel.”
“Yeah, those choices suck.” Georg looked around for an ashtray but settled eventually for dropping the lit butt in the toilet. On the way back from the bathroom, he paused at the nightstand to sip from his cola.
“But Georg, can you live with yourself if you never tell him? If you never take the chance?”
Georg sat with his back against the headboard again and waited for Gustav to continue.
“Because it seems to me that nothing is going to be the same anyway. You either get to deal with this weirdness, and Tom,” The bassist looked up and they grimaced together, and then laughed together because of it. “or you tell him. Talk to him. Corner him, if you have to. He’s either going to be freaked out, in which case, you still have the weirdness you’re living with anyway, or…”
Georg looked into his friends face, searching Gustav’s dark eyes, “Do you think it’s even possible, Gus?”
“Georg, you know Bill. Anything is possible.”
~~~ooo~~~
Georg awoke the next morning knowing what he had to do.
The interview that afternoon seemed to last hours. Bill was beautiful, as always, but Georg could see the strain and exhaustion on his face, and he noticed Bill drop his gaze each time Tom or the interviewer referred to Georg. Guilt stung him, but he told himself to be patient. Just breathe and wait. Breathe and wait.
Soundcheck was a tense affair. Georg watched Bill, but kept his distance from the young singer. He wanted to be careful. He didn’t want to push him, and he certainly didn’t want to spook him any further. So he went through the same routine he could follow in his sleep, and soon enough, the four men found themselves in the green room, waiting for the concert to start.
In the silence of that room, Georg sat on a black vinyl couch and stared at his hands folded in his lap. The longer this took, the longer he had to wait until he could talk to Bill. The longer he had to wait, the more nervous he got.
He glanced up, cleared his throat and reached for his water.
The noise, or maybe it was the movement, seemed to catch Bill’s attention, and his eyes met Georg’s.
Georg sucked a sharp breath in and dropped his eyes back to his lap, but not before catching the ghost of a smile on Bill’s lips. He felt his face pinken and grow warm, and his own smile grew wide.
Tom’s confused voice brought his head up again. “What the hell is going on with you two?”
Scooting away from Bill slightly and turning to face him, Tom looked from one man to the other and back again, narrowing his eyes when neither of them answered. “Are you guys planning something? Whatever it is, I want you to know, I will retaliate.”
Tom poked a finger at both of them, the tiniest smirk taking the edge off the threat. “You just watch your shampoo bottles, that’s all I’m saying.”
Bill looked at Georg, raised his eyebrows, and the tension died a quiet death, drowned in the sound of their laughter.
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