After that small bump in Bill and my relationship, I thought things were going fine. I was more than wrong because the next three and a half months that we spent together became a living nightmare for me. Even though it was a living nightmare though, I was still more than addicted to him.

Since we were born, Bill and I had always been stubborn with each other and now it was leading to major fights between us. We would get in fights about the most random stuff ever, like what was for supper or how many of my Coke's were left in the fridge. The stress of it all was hell on for me. It was taking a toll on both of us and we both had our own was of dealing with it.

Most of the times, I would quit talking and ignore Bill for days on end. I would hang out in my room or go out with my friends. I would do anything to avoid confrontation with Bill. But Bill would go out clubbing and partying. He would get so fucking drunk so that he could just forget it all for the moment. I still remember the first time that Bill went out and came home to me, completely bombed.

It was after we had been in a huge fight abut some details of a song we were working on. I don't even really remember what was said. After we had screamed our lungs out at each other, Bill had declared that he was going to go out and not to follow him; slamming the door quite loudly behind him as he made his dramatic exit.

Hours upon hours later, he came back to our apartment, stumbling through the door. At first I didn't realize he was that drunk until he tried to actually walk and ended up collapsing; falling to the floor. He then immediately broke into hysterics shortly after, his face turning red.

I immediately rushed over to him and knelt down beside him, concern spreading over me like crazy. After I was sure he'd be find if I left him there, I stood up, starting to walk to the kitchen to get him some water. He groaned and covered his mouth with his hands, only removing them to latch his hands around my ankle, causing me to trip in mid-step.

I turned around to look at him and he looked absolutely dreadful. I struggled to free my ankle and knelt down beside him once again. I was about to ask him what he wanted when he cut me off.

"Mmfhbafroooomnugh…" He slurred out heavily.

Quickly, I pulled him to his feet and put my arm around his small waist, throwing his arm around my shoulder. Slowly, I started to walk with him, supporting his entire body with my own. Luckily, we made it to the bathroom in time. I slowly sat him down and he slumped over the toilet, immediately emptying his stomach's contents through his mouth. I held his hair back and rubbed his back soothingly. I couldn't help but notice that even as he was spewing chunks, he had a certain beauty that had me addicted.

Other times, Bill would come home bruised and broken. On many occasions, his perfect face would return to me with cuts and I couldn't help but feel my heart break as I stared into his broken face. One time, I immediately started to cry and I then held him close to me in my arms but he would just push me away, glaring at me with hatred burning in his eyes.

"Get off of me, Tom." He warned me darkly, forcing me to release him.

My only response was to wrap him up in my arms once again, holding him tightly. My only intention was to comfort him. I was too blind to see that it was having a negative effect on Bill.

"I SAID GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" He screamed, slamming me against the wall so that I was facing him.

I let out a groan of pain winced at the force he used. Within seconds, he then proceeded to hit, kick, and do anything he could to hurt me. As he was hurting me, he would let out loud screams and cries as tears flowed from his magnificent eyes. After he was done taking all of his rage out on me, he left me to collapse to the ground in pain. He then warned the now bloody and broken me not to come near him ever again, leaving me praying that the next time Bill would come home, he would be drunk. At least then I could handle him.

But no matter how many times that scene repeated itself (and believe me, it happened so many times that I probably have permanent damage), it always ended up that one night after a week to a month later, I would wake up to find him in my bed. His small but strong frame would be wrapped around me and all I could do would be to forgive him. I couldn't help myself. I loved him so much. I worked too hard and wanted him for too long to let him go.

By now, the media had finally given up on the twincest rumor, thanks to the heavy denial from Bill, Georg, Gustav, our management, and myself. Apparently, the rumor was too farfetched for anyone to actually believe it (thank God). I knew that if Bill and I weren't more careful with our displays of affection, it would more than definitely be the end of Tokio Hotel.

Bill and I were trying hard to work things out. I never told him how hard it was for me to live with him being constantly abusive to me, or with him coming home drunk all the time. He was single-handedly tearing us apart but I kept my hold on him as much as I could. I would forgive him for anything. Hell, if he raped and murdered David Jost in front of me, I would probably forgive him if I caught one glance of those eyes.

During one of the rare times when Bill didn't hate me, we were curled up together on the couch, his head resting on my chest. I rested my head on top of his and just closed my eyes, savoring the extremely rare moment. I didn't notice right away that he had fallen asleep but I now realize that's why he wasn't bitching about something as usual. Looking back now, this was probably one of the happiest moments I can remember of Bill and I together. Er, well it was until he woke up.

"Sleep good, Billy?" I murmured happily as I gave him a small squeeze.

"Mm...What time is it?" He yawned out, scanning the room for a clock.

"Seven."

"Mm."

I nodded and reached for a cloth napkin that was sitting on the couch, wiping my mouth because while Bill was asleep I had indulged myself in some of my favorite cheesy salsa. When he caught a glimpse of what I was wiping my mouth with, his eyes widened and he jumped off the couch, immediately grabbing my napkin away from me.

"Hey, I was using tha-"

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" He screamed at me.

"What do you-"

"GOD TOM, YOU'RE SUCH A FUCKING IDIOT!"

"What did I-"

"THIS IS MY FAVORITE SCARF YOU DUMB SHIT! IT'S WORTH LIKE FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS!" He continued to scream at me. I gulped when I heard the amount it was worth and nearly shot myself right then and there.

"Oh shit! God…Bill I am so sorry. I can pay for a new one just let me-"

"THEY ONLY FUCKING MADE TWELVE OF THEM YOU FUCKER AND THIS ONE WAS NUMBER TWELVE!!"

"Well I can get you something else then if you-"

"FUCK TOM! DON'T YOU EVER THINK OF ANYONE BUT YOURSELF?!"

"Would you stop FUCKING CUTTING ME OFF, BILL?" I defended myself, rising to my feet to stare him dead straight in the eye. "Maybe if you didn't leave your most expensive shit around the house this fucking wouldn't happen!"

"OH DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING BLAME THIS ON ME!" He yelled, throwing the now ruined scarf to the floor, the fire burning in his eyes.

"Why not?! You blame EVERYTHING on me! Take responsibility for your actions next time!"

"I'M NOT THE ONE WHO WIPED THEIR DISGUSTING MOUTH ON IT NOW AM I?!"

"You might as well be!"

"Ugh! You know what, Tom? Fuck you, I'm going out." He spat out at me in a forced whisper, grabbing his wallet and storming out of the apartment, slamming the door so hard that the painting we had hanging next to it, fell to the ground with a crash.

I was so pissed at myself for challenging him. Now I was sure that I was going to pay the price. I hadn't seen him that pissed off at me in such a long time. I groaned and headed to our bedroom, locking myself in. I threw myself on my bed in hopes of sleeping the rest of my life away.

I tried so desperately to sleep but I couldn't. They always tell you not to go to sleep mad but I have no idea how someone even could try. I wasn't as mad as I was worried for Bill's well-being. Terrified is more like it. I was terrified of what might happen to him but I was more terrified of what he might do to himself.

Pulling the covers off of me, I shuffled off to the living room, grabbing my robe on the way and flinging it onto me. I turned on a lamp and sat on the couch to wait for my brother, pulling out a book to make time go faster. It was no use though. My mind was already racing and wrapping itself around every thought it could grasp. Where is he? What if he lost his phone and can't contact me and is in danger? What if he's dead? What if…he's with someone else? I threw the book on the table and reached over to turn off the lamp. I figured a surprise attack would be fitting.