I groaned once more and fell back to a laying position, my head smacking into the metal bed frame.
"You think you're so funny, don't you?" I moaned out, cursing up at the sky as I rubbed my head.
That cursing didn't even compare to what followed once realization hit me. After Bill had gone out with my wallet, I wanted to comfort myself by looking over a few…personal items. Mostly pictures of Bill and I with, "Liebe" written on the back, a notepad that I had used for years; with a few of my darkest confessions about my brother written in them, small pictures I had drawn of him with love notes on the empty space, (I'm an amazing artist I must say – but it's all thanks to my source of inspiration), and a few other things.
I went to go into my wallet to find my "comfort items." I put my hand in my pocket before remembering that my wallet was in the very hands of the one person who I least wanted to see it.
"FUCK! Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…" I screamed out, my ribs hurting from the earlier beating that I had more than willingly taken.
Starting to hyperventilate, I scrambled painfully to get back to my feet, pacing around the room I shared with my brother. The dirty thoughts, the various dreams I had, the countless nights where all I could do was watch perfection in its sleeping form; I had documented all of it in my notepad. He would know all of it the second he decided to search through my wallet. Why do I keep such personal things in my wallet? My wallet is always on me, there is no chance of getting it away from me…or so I thought.
"Nein…nein…nein…NEIN! THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!" I screamed painfully at the top of my lungs, falling face first into my pillow, letting out strangled sobs.
I'm assuming that I fell asleep because a few hours later, I woke up, my face full of mattress. I could hear in the living room that the TV was on.
"Bill…" I silently mouthed, feeling horror shake me to the core.
It had to be Bill because he was the only other occupant in our apartment. We had two rooms but Bill and I shared one because either Gustav or Georg would sleep over and needed a room to their self.
It's safe to say that I was a bit more than terrified but I slowly ventured out into the living room. My body was sore, swollen, and bruised, yet at the same time, it tasted a little like bliss. I froze the second I saw him, limping my way over to the couch, sitting down next to him. Now I wouldn't be lying when I say that my heart plummeted when I saw him squirm a barely-visible inch away from me. I could have shoved a knife through my heart at that second, had he not swung his legs up onto the couch, a very small distance away from my thigh.
I was always quick to judge I guess, especially with Bill, and even more so once I knew I was in love with him. Any movement that my little brother made sent my mind reeling; demanding for an explanation on the spot.
"Listen Bill, I-" I started, shutting up when his hand raised, cutting me off.
"Don't Tom. I realize that it was just an accident. It's all been fixed now. I have my new recorder." He said, flashing me a brilliant smile as he held up the fancy, new replacement recorder.
"Ugh. How much did that cost me?" I groaned loudly, my head falling onto his shoulder.
Blinking at me, he studied my face. Bill shook his head, his smile fading quickly, much to my disarray. I could feel my heart start to ache as I looked away from him, keeping my head where it was out of plain exhaustion. I was in too much pain to move.
"Nothing. I used my own money. I've wanted one for a while now so it wouldn't be fair to make you pay." He said quietly. Oh thank God. So he hadn't seen my always pocketed shrine…
"Oh…Damn right!" I agreed, trying to regain my lost composure.
"Actually, that isn't true…" He almost whispered. At this moment, crude words and curses were stringing themselves together in my head.
I was speechless, engrossed in the possibilities that may have exited his more than perfect lips.
"I had every intention of making you pay for it. And you would have paid too…had I not been shocked by something I found. These…" He sighed out slowly, holding up a few ripped out pieces of paper from my notepad – parts of my "shrine (if you want to call it that)."
My heartbeat quickened to an unfathomed pace. The palms of my hands started to get sweaty as I started to get incredibly nervous. I immediately removed my head from his shoulder, backing up to get a good look at what was in his hand. Sure enough, the paper in between his fingers held some of the dirtiest things involving him that I had ever written. Trying to act innocent, I squinted at the papers he held.
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about." I squeaked out defensively. Okay, I realize that I wasn't too convincing but I had to try somehow.
"Tom, they're in your handwriting." He spoke slowly, as if trying to convince not only me, but himself.
"What's in my handwriting? I told you I don't know what the hell you're talking about."
"Okay, let's see if I can refresh your memory…" He started. Oh shit. He cleared his throat and pulled out one of the sheets and I knew from that moment in time that I was done for. He started reading the writing on the paper out loud to me; luckily it was the most G-rated one I had written. "Bill's all I dream about nowadays. Whenever I talk to him I can't help but gaze longingly at his luscious lips. I can't help but scream to him in my mind, 'Just fuck me already!' I can't help but stay up long hours in my bed, just watching him sleep. Watching his chest rise and fall with each breath, wishing and hoping that some day I can hold him while he sleeps. I don't want to hold him like a brother. I want him to be my lover. I need him more than he thinks I do. I need him more than a normal brother should…" He stopped, looking up at me with a raised eyebrow. His face was emotionless, making it impossible for me to read what he was thinking.
"Oh, s-so you think its f-f-funny to write f-fake love notes in m-my handwriting?! Is that your idea of s-some s-sick payback?!" I squeaked and yelled out. Okay now, I was getting really desperate.
"They're in your fucking handwriting you sick fuck!" He screamed at me, obviously annoyed, throwing my wallet at my head. When it hit, I have to admit that it sure as hell hurt, but not as much as his words. I gasped and rubbed my head, looking down. I didn't know if he meant it or not but his words stung.
"Y-You…t-think…I-I'm sick?" I half whimpered out, trying my hardest not to cry. Well hell, I knew I was strong emotionally but God, Bill. Way to fucking rip out my heart.
"Well I-" He started before the door opened sharply and in walked our two best friends, Gustav and Georg. Bill quickly flashed me a look and I could tell he had chosen the wrong words. It was a mistake but who knows. Maybe the mistake was in the word "fuck." He could have been trying to call me a sick bastard, for all I knew.
I refused to look up at either of them as I grabbed my wallet, ripping the notes out of Bill's hands and quickly getting up from the couch, rushing to our room. I slammed the door and locked it immediately. With my back to the door, I slowly slid down it until I hit the floor, letting out a soundless cry as the tears fell from my eyes. "Sick Fuck" was something my brother often used on me. It was something he always called me when we fought but now it had a new meaning. It burned my heart and violated my hardened emotions.
I slowly crawled my way to the middle of the room, collapsing face first onto the carpet. It tickled my face in an unpleasant fashion but I could care less. All I did was just lie there, trying but failing to keep the tears from pouring out of my eyes, into the carpet. I remained in that position long after the tears had dried up, my face just straight into the carpet, my eyes tightly closed, and my whole body sprawled out randomly.
After Georg and Gustav had left (a few hours later, to my shock), I heard a knock on the door. I groaned in reply, my face still shoved into the carpet. My little brother hesitantly walked in and I shifted my head so I could see with one eye. All I saw were his feet, followed by the rest of him as he sat down right next to me, sighing heavily. I frowned and rolled over onto my back before sitting up slowly, glaring into his eyes.
"What do you want with a 'sick fuck' like me?" I spat out at him.
"Tom I-" He started.
"You what? You think it's funny to throw those words around right now?!" I yelled at him, still glaring.
"Tom I didn't mean it like that! You of all people know that I say that shit without thinking!" He retorted.
I shook my head and looked away from him, crossing my arms over my chest. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I turned to look at him. His face was a cross between apologetic and something else I couldn't quite make out. When his eyes met my own, he sighed the same frustrated sigh I had let out a minute or so earlier.
"I didn't mean it, okay? I ALWAYS call you that. I'm sorry okay?" He sighed out as if it had been rehearsed.
"It wouldn't hurt if you actually meant it. Now I'm left out in the open with how I feel about you." I frowned, standing up, moving towards the door to exit the room.
As soon as I was about to exit the room, his hand wrapped around my left ankle, causing me to trip and fall. Luckily I fell to my knees and not on my face. I shook my leg continuously, trying to free it from his grasp. It was pointless as with each shake, he held my leg tighter. I turned around to flash him another glare. My heart was slowly splitting in half and it felt like he wanted the front row seat. I finally gave up on escaping from him, his hand still wrapped tightly around my left ankle, not easing up one bit.
"Is it not enough for you to hurt me emotionally? Do you have to keep going until I'm broken all over?!" I yelled at him, louder than I ever have, struggling to hold back my cries. The shock on his face was more than evident.
He slowly released his hand; the second look on his face was shocking. It was a look that I had hoped for years would show on his face. He grabbed my wrists and pulled me upright and looked me straight in the eye.
"So now you admit that you wrote that?" He quietly asked me.
"I thought we already established this." I sighed out, not sure if the look on his face was true or not.
He looked at me hesitantly before looking away. His face turned a soft shade of pink and I tried so hard to stop myself but I couldn't help but brush the back of my fingers across his cheek. Bill turned his eyes back to me, blinking in shock. Without thinking, I leaned forward to press my lips tenderly to his and much to my delight, his lips pressed back with equal pressure. It was bliss in its purest form.