#deathbykaulitz

“Yeah, maybe. Hard to say if life was rosier then, or if it is now… pun intended.” Raising his brows a bit at the glass container filled with rose champagne that was chosen for the night, Tom smiles a little to himself with the badly constructed philosophical thought provided, before toasting with a gesture, catching his twin’s stare as he does so. Ever the one to know that looking into someone’s eyes is the right way to go about toasting, no matter if the glasses collide. Intoxicated by the hours spent drinking at their party, his internal monologue then intensifies and extends the thought that was spoken to his twin. Was it lovelier living in that ignorant bliss that came before realization of even knowing one was alive; or was it much better peacefully contemplating his existence in the here and now, pondering about how he’d been taking life by the horns with its full blown lows and highs both, especially in the latest years of wandering about planet earth? Open for interpretation, he decides – maybe because he is too drunk to process it all, but more likely because he just doesn’t care enough to spend time pondering on the essence of Men. Much rather than that, he’d enjoy the peacefulness of the moment, straying away from heavy debates. “...well, whatever the case may be –“ he continues then, leaving the glass to the side of the tub again. “I trust she didn’t have any alcohol while we were still in there, even if that would explain a thing or two about our alcoholism tendencies. So, yeah - warm and cozy: check - but I’d argue it is slightly different, still. Maybe we should dive and kiss underwater for good measure.”

Shopping, ultimately, wasn't that bad after all. Or, well, at least not as bad as it initially sounded. The major downside to the suggestion was, namely, how hellish it was outside the house in the context of degrees Celsius. Luckily enough though, Tom has quickly found that the transits from an air-conditioned point A of their car, to the air-conditioned point B that was a random mall weren’t all that long. So all was well at the end of the day. What’s more, he could even say he actually quite enjoyed it. Peaceful, lay off days spent back in their home on the west coast were starting to shift in a pleasant kind of routine again. Not that either of the twins particularly enjoyed routine as it was – they are both, after all, a more adventuristic type - but in the concept that was their relationship specifically, lately, such was most definitely welcome. As was Bill’s invitation for Tom to spend some time out with him. Though at first a bit uncertain, with the brunette thinking here we go again, endless strolling around in this heat, only to end up with a frustrated twin who didn’t find exactly what he was looking for, there was still an overlaying sensation of yes, this actually sounds so… good. Because at the end of the day, Tom didn’t remember when was the last time he’d deal with a twin being frustrated over “why didn’t they have that shirt with a plum print, ugh”. Funnily enough, he missed such as well. A lot. Smiling to the side when Bill offers to help with the newly obtained luggage, Tom reaches out to give him two smaller bags, purely out of instinct. “...so you don’t strain yourself, princess,” he then teases with a small smirk – only now figuring that he just offered the tinier shopping bags himself, though pretending he did it on purpose nevertheless. Soon enough, they reach the car to drop their things off, after which the producer asks about their future plans – already walking towards their agreed upon destination, seeing how it was only a street away. “So, who’s really taking whom for dinner then, if we both planned to take the other out? Or is this, like, you pay for mine I pay for yours scenario?” he smirks.

Tom didn’t really know what to do with himself. It seemed to be a reoccurring event of some kind as of late. Or more exactly – ever since the two of them returned to the States. The brunette knew relaxing should probably be a good idea, a top priority – just take his mind off of everything, which would be all the more possible now that the disputes between him and his brother were almost entirely resolved. After all, even with their recent vacation, most of his time in the past weeks was spent in a sort of an inner turmoil. “Doing nothing” didn’t really help the cause of getting ahead of his head up until now, but at the same time, why not waste the precious moments of this newly found serenity to just…  well, do nothing. Well, probably because Tom wasn’t the kind to just sit around and waste his time in unproductiveness. The problem ensued when he realized he wasn’t really up for doing anything, but also not up for doing nothing either. Instead of dwelling on this existential problem all too much though, he just eventually shut himself into the studio – to catch up on some recordings he couldn’t bring himself to go back to for quite some time now. And so he works, and after a while really truly falls into the embrace of his own concentration. That is until Bill screams out for his name from the upper floor. The producer doesn’t know why he reacts so promptly, as though this certain call would be one of immediate urgency, but he’s up quickly and in the living room in no time, only slowing down when entering the room. “Hey, what’s up…?” he asks, exploring the situation. His eyes shift on his brother’s body spread out on the couch, and then the empty champagne glass in his hands. “Did you drink? Are you alright?”

Tom's body doesn't go as far as to completely slip away from the touch provided, but there is no mistake to be made – he tenses underneath it. The context of it is not exactly clear, such could be namely happening for numerous reasons, first being the unexpectancy of the coolness at the first place – majority must be in the slight itch behind it, though. The skin wasn’t really painful at all up until now, and Tom sure as hell couldn’t turn his head enough to see the damage done – or well, he just tried, but that only made the skin of his neck stretch in an uncomfortable tightening. Judging by the contact just now though, the sight must’ve not been all too pretty. As soon as Bill spoke, the producer realized he was in for quite some more burning later that day, seeing how the ache slowly started to set into his shoulder as soon as he removed himself from the UV damage, raising by the minute. Speaking of UV – yes, he might’ve been lacking in protection against it, just as Bill suggested. But such was no wonder. As of late, in the past two days particularly, Tom was mostly airheaded – the only thing that he really paid attention to being his brother’s meds schedule and his overall response to… everything. “Yeah - but you say that like it’s a bad thing. Which is not the case. I namely used up my full potential anyway,” makes Tom the situation sound intentional instead. ”It’ll get sensationally tan by tomorrow, real crispy, I tell you - way ahead of you. Just you wait,” he then jokes out loud finally, proceeding with pouring himself a glass of cooled, fresh OJ.

It’s a weird feeling to say the least when his brother hands out the prescription to the pharmacist, and Tom finds himself carefully observing the face of the welcoming young man behind the counter that is there to help them out with firstly finding the written down boxes in the closets behind the scenes, and then speak to them about their functions, effects, side effects and everything else that came with the package. He’s a professional, the brunette realizes, and would even upon a recognition of the twins say nothing of importance. Nevertheless, the feeling is a bit unsettling – maybe because the scenario reminds Tom of the times when he had to go through this same procedure just as well, along with all the negative emotions that came with the boxes he is now eyeing in solemn calculation. Sort of half awkwardly, the brunette is leaning against the counter as the list of things that need to be explained just goes on and on, taking in the information with the knowledge Bill might be missing something along the way. To break the tension then, or almost to maybe lure his mind away from what they came to pick up in the first place, he sets his mind to buy a thing or two over the counter – mainly painkillers to fill up their medicine cabinets, some teas they only sold in pharmacies, and some herb pills in case of a every so occasional sore throat. Oh, and that pill container Bill wanted to have so much. After paying promptly, the twins set their course of aim to home, Tom suspects - albeit he thinks about suggesting they might go out and grab a little bite somewhere – maybe have some ice cream. Quite out of a sort of nostalgic feeling of habit - one coming back from the times when their mother would use to take them out for a treat for being good at the doctors’... or well, even in the times when they weren’t all too good, tobe honest. Opening the door to the outside world for his brother who’s curiously peeking in the bag, unsurprisingly giving much attention to everything but the way in front of him, Tom then snorts lightly. “They don’t taste like anything if you down them properly. But if you’re still doing that thing where you keep rolling pills around in your mouth for half a minute because they’re quote on quote too big to swallow, you might just figure out soon.”

Tom wonders if his brother can hear the acceleration of his heart beat where he's resting his ear above the producer’s chest. Tom himself sure does. He feels it in his ears – a soft, thudding background noise almost, a bit uneven, occasionally skipping a pump. It’s a mix of two things, all in all – the first being an anxiety of still staying where he perhaps was not supposed to stay, figuring Bill might’ve not wanted to wake up and see him still be around; the other, though, quite a childish portray of some natural sort of thrill for simply being close again. Even with him knowing his body was lacking Bill’s presence in such proximities, it only now broke down in a slight tremor with the realization of exactly how much, and the feeling only amplified once Bill spoke, suggesting he woke up. “Morning,” mutters softly the brunette, fingers going in to find the other’s bleached locks, stroking through them gently - and hopefully not all that awkwardly. Though he’s been awake for a while, pondering if he should take a leave, the decision to not do so was easily done, figuring he shouldn’t move all to much in order not to wake the younger man up. Just letting Bill rest on his chest then, he scratches at the warm skin of his scalp in silence, waiting to see what might ensue.

Looking up from the spaced out glare he holds with the distant pine tree growing in the neighboring backyard, the producer finds his twin approaching and sitting down with an offer of a drink. A drink that is half a meal on its own with its texture, Tom assumes, looking at the smoothie brewage. “Thanks,” he speaks lowly when receiving it, bringing it to his lap where he cradles it with his palms as though it would emit heat on a cold day. The truth of it is – the day isn’t even all that cold, at all. April was ending, and though rainy as they come, the skies on this fine day were letting through a lot of sun all the while, making today have a really extraordinary weather condition. There’s a half smoked cigarette held in between his fingers, the tobacco paper slightly damp from the drizzle that just ended mere minutes ago – one Tom refused to avoid, rather sitting there by the pool to observe the rain drops hit the pool surface in the glistering of the late afternoon sun, making his own self be slightly wet too – and an ashtray half full by his side on the wide arm rest. “Well, might as well. I’m not made out of sugar,” he responds with a little smile in regards to the question, sipping once on his newly obtained shake.

Tom is sure he probably looks more than just stupid. Or well, judging by his social status, maybe just drugged out of his mind. He sees it in the staff’s eyes when he rolls down to the dining area way too early for anyone’s everyday comfort – the slightly confusing glares of the people who are already starting their shifts early, and of some who are ending them in return, all penetrating him even if he never returns the favour of making proper eye contact. They all silently make their way across the hall, both men and women, all weighed down in bags of their belongings and uniforms that need cleaning, each glance thrown in his direction drenched with at least some sort of puzzlement – with some individuals trying to conceal it all behind the dark gloominess of the dawn peeking through the windows, whilst others not bothering doing so at all, whatsoever. Before long, someone starts distributing silverware around the place, being the first to ask if Tom required something, and the brunette just shakes his head, simply sitting there some more in complete silence apart the clashes of spoons against forks against knives. Another fifteen minutes later maybe, the first early bird arrives in order to dine too, and after him, two more. When Bill comes around, the hall is still pretty empty, making the blonde rather early too, surprisingly enough. The other two band members, usually being the first to make their way down or upstairs (whatever the case might be) to fill their bellies, didn’t manage to beat the twins this time around. Tom imagines the shock on Gustav’s face was he to find the brothers half in on their meal later on, and snorts lightly, and soon after, there’s Bill’s presence on his side. And he just sits there some more, his plate still empty.