Author's note: First things first; I do NOT own Tokio Hotel, Moulin Rouge, Mcfly, and/or and peoples or musical properties that belong to them. This is for non-profit and for entertainment purposes only. It is a complete work of fiction and the character portrayals of actual people and places are for entertainment purposes only as well. This is a work of slash fiction a.k.a. it portrays homosexual relations between men. If you are uncomfortable with this please refrain from reading and find another piece of fan fiction or literature that is more appropriate for your tastes. This story also contains drug use, nonconsensual sex between men, abuse, self harm perhaps as well as other adult themes and settings. Again if you don't like; don't read!
This fiction is inspired by the art of Mearii on Deviant Art entitled No One at My Window. This for her fan fiction contest.
Now that that's done. If you do like all this stuff, please enjoy! Emergency exits are located at the rear of the vehicle as well as at the front and to the sides. Please fasten your seat belts and in case of a water landing use the inflatable life vest located under your seat. In the rare occurrence of nose bleeds or air pressure changes, oxygen masks will magically fall form the ceiling. Please place your mask on first before helping other. Have a nice ride and thank you for reading with Cal Hale today!
The winter air snaked into the small drafty apartment and filled the room with an icy chill. However the young man slouched in the corner took no notice and instead brought his last cigarette to his purpled lips between shaky fingers.
His eyes were dull and grey and although his heart beat thundered throughout his skull; he had the look about him that indicated that something in him had died.
"Bill…" The name slide from his throat like poison and for a moment he closed his eyes in a futile attempt to chase away the beautiful face that haunted him.
Pulling the smoking tube from his lips, the youth glared across the decaying space at a gleaming Gibson Les Paul Studio guitar that seemed to be taunting him. It's silverburst finish shone in the moonshine and it made him want to throw up. Too many memories were calling him, too many moments that would just lead to his destruction. And so he sat in the corner and smoked; preying that in the morning the ice that gripped his heart would melt away.
Moments passed like hours, seconds seemed like days and all together it seemed as though the night about never end. It began to eat away at him until he couldn't sit still any longer. With a spiteful sigh the youth stood and stalked across the cold floor to his guitar. It shined up at him as if laughing at his torment.
Rage, frustration and a horrid longing began to build within his chest and with an angry growl, he grabbed the guitar and turned to smash it against the ground.
But something stopped him. Some sweet and burning pain in his heart brought tears to his eyes and he dropped to his knees. Falling half way onto his bed; which now seemed like a cold and empty expanse of white.
Tears ran like salty rivers down his bronzed cheeks and he held the instrument to his chest as if it were the most precious thing on earth. His shoulders shook with sorrow and grief as pent up agony poured out of him. Collapse was his only option and the frosted hard wood seemed to come up and meet him as he finished his decent down.
He laid there in self loathing and misery, letting the emotions he had forced away come back to him and consume him. And it was as if he finally understood what he had been missing. He knew now what he had to do. What he needed to do.
Pulling himself up onto the edge of the bed, a silent shake coursing through his exhausted body, He took up his cherished guitar and he began to play. And in his head, a voice that wasn't his own, spoke the words he needed to say.
This song is about love. The person I love is dead…
Six months before…
Tom Kaulitz stepped off the train, guitar and duffle bag in tow, at Berlin station with a sly smirk across his lips. He was finally out of the tiny town he had grown up in and finally free from the sinking feeling that his ex-band, Devilish, was going to fail. He shrugged off the sour taste in his mouth at the thought that he had really been kicked out, but at least he was free now. Free to play his own music, to write his own music, and to express himself the way he wanted. He'd come to make a name for himself and write songs that expressed the deepest of all emotions; hate, betrayal, joy, passion, and above all things…love.
He wandered the streets for hours in pursuit of nothing in particular at first . But as the sun began to set, Tom's dread locks grew heavy and his baggy jeans and over sized tee-shirts were sticking to him from sweat. The little money he had brought with him seemed smaller and smaller an amount as he looked for a room to stay in vain. Finally in the back streets of Berlin; along a narrow and wet alley way, Tom found a room that he could rent for fifty dollars a month.
It was a frail, un-sturdy kind of building and the land lady seemed even frailer then the structure she owned. But she had smiled at Tom and led him into the stifling hot complex and up three flights of stairs to his room while she bantered on about the so called "performance artists" who lived next door and that the roof leaked during the worst of rainstorms. "Also," she added, "The building across the street, the fancy one strung up with lights, is a whore house."
"The sign outside said it was a concert hall." Tom pointed out as he sat down on the old mattress that was in place for a bed and wiped his sweat glistening forehead with the bottom of his shirt.
"They put up a mighty good front don't they? It may have started that way, but there hasn't been a legitimate show in on that stage in years. And hardly a decent women or man has set foot in the place since it opened." The aged women chuckled and waved her hand.
"But forget me. I'm just a little old fashioned I guess. But if you do bring a girl home, try to keep the noise down. It probably won't matter with your neighbors being as loud as they are, but still…" She smiled at Tom again and placed her small wrinkled hand on his shoulder, "Did you have anymore questions?"
Tom shook his head and tongued at his lower lip ring, "Nope, Thanks." She patted his shoulder warmly and left, only looking back once as she shuffled out of the room.
Tom inhaled deeply after her departure and then promptly pulled his tee-shirts off, throwing his hat and sweat band to the floor with his shirt, and fell backwards to sprawl himself across the cool sheets on the thinning mat you could almost come call a bed. The sheets were colder then the room and they felt lusciously good against his heated skin. Exhaling away some of the stress of the day, Tom piled his heavy dreads atop his head and tied them in place with a hair band so the chilled fabric could cool his tired neck. Finally opening his eyes as he began to relax, Tom looked about him. The place was a dump to say the least, but it had large windows that led out to a balcony that wrapped around his room which was nice and offered a stunning view of the sunset. This and the fact that it was cheap perhaps being the only redeeming qualities Tom had found. Looking up, Tom could see that the ceiling above him was decayed. It was black and grey in some spots and sinking in in others from water damage. Tom grimaced and turned onto his side to avoid the sight. "You're free now, remember, free." he comforted himself.
"Free…" Tom mumbled as he played with his lip ring. The word seemed to inspire something and he sat up to grab his guitar. It was an old guitar, acoustic and not the best but it did what Tom's fingers told it to do and at times it seemed to even be an extension of himself he liked to think. And as he sat in his tiny room, on his rotting mattress, and plucked at the cool metallic strings the world seemed to faded away a little and the black mold in the corner and the stench of too many people cooking seemed to soften a bit.
Tom smiled softly as he strummed away, playing around with chords and harmonies like they were old friends he had made as a child. Pure and innocent, the sound surrounded him in a cloud of happiness and care free.
Suddenly, thundering noise was coming toward Tom and he jumped in surprise as a group of mismatched teenagers smashed through the door, breaking it off it's hinges and escalating into mass of limbs upon Tom's floor.
Tom sat in shock, cradling his guitar protectively to his chest, as the tangle of boys pried themselves from each other, groaning and shoving until the four of them were on their feet and brushing the dirty from their already soiled clothing.
"Can I help you?" Tom asked in surprise more then irritation.
"Hi!" The blondest of the group smiled and held his hand out for Tom to shake, "I'm Tom! But please call me Fletcher."
Tom smirked and after a moment and took the other Tom's hand, "Me too. Well Tom anyway. Tom Kaulitz."
Fletcher's eyes lit up in excitement, "Oh that's so cool." Bouncing on the balls of his feet Fletcher turned to the brunette next to him. "Did you hear that Danny, his name is Tom too? I'm sure it's a sign."
"You don't believe in signs Fletch." Danny reminded him with a playful smile.
Fletcher opened his mouth about to make a rather snide retort when Tom interrupted, "Who are you guys?"
There was a snicker shared between Danny and the other two that Fletcher made a put out sound to and shhhed before turning back to Tom, "Where are my manners, As you know I'm Fletcher, this is my 'Roommate' Danny Jones." The roll of Fletcher's eyes and his use of air quotes on the word roommate made Tom chuckle silently as Danny elbowed Fletcher in the ribs.
"Hey watch it!" Fletcher whined at the tough push, "whatever. Moving on, this is Harry Judd. He also lives with us. And the thin thing that's hanging all over him is Dougie. Dougie works at the brothel across the street. He's a dancer. Aren't you Dougie?" Fletcher asked teasingly to which Dougie stuck his tongue out and giggled when Harry pulled his face back up and kissed him rather thoroughly.
"They're kind of an item." Fletcher added in a half whisper.
Tom raised an eyebrow, "I can see that."
There was a small moment of awkwardness and Tom began to fidget nervously, "So, is there a reason you guys decided to break down my door?"
"Oh!" Fletcher exclaimed, "I forgot! I'm sorry! We were just so excited when we heard you playing. You see, we're performance artists. Well musicians really and we were lounging in our living room right above you when we heard you playing. You see we have been looking for a guitarist for awhile and Dougie won't do it because he's always at work. So when we heard you we were so excited we just had to come down and meet you. And ask you to be in our band really. You were so amazing. The notes were like a melody that sang to the soul and it almost brought tears to my eyes I swear. So will you? "
"What?" Tom asked as Fletchers words had seemed more of a blur in his ears then a coherent thought.
Before Fletcher would once again jump into his tirade, Danny came to Tom's rescue, "What Fletch is trying to say is if you are looking for something to do, we'd love to have you join our band."
Somehow, Harry and Dougie came up for air and Harry added, "Yeah, you sounded really great, even with that acoustic of yours. And I'm sure that six pack of yours will come in handy during our concerts. Fan girls love that crap."
Realizing he was still shirtless, Tom bite his lip and tried to hide the blush that inflamed his cheeks by turning around to grab one of his shirts and pulling it on.
"Harry, way to be rude man." Fletcher scolders and smacked Harry's arm.
Shaking off his embarrassment Tom cleared his throat and changed the subject, "So you guys are in a band. What kind of music do you play?"
"Mostly rock pop stuff right now. We cover a random assortment of bands." Fletcher answered
Harry cut in, "Yeah which sucks because the only band we should ever cover is the Beatles. Instead we're stuck playing whatever club owners want us to play and working around Dougie's schedule at the brothel. Ain't that right kiddo?" Harry added as he went in for another kiss with Dougie, who welcomed the attention happily.
Fletcher and Danny rolled their eyes in shame. "Are they like this all the time?" Tom questioned suspiciously and took a large step away from the couple.
"Only at home. Most of the time Harry's flirting with everything with legs and Dougie's shaking his ass at the brothel for men and women alike." Danny replied. "But yeah, we just get used to it."
"Although they could be a bit more courteous when meeting new people. People who play guitar insanely well and could play for the band!" Fletcher offered more to Harry and Dougie then to Tom.
Tom smiled and chuckled quietly. "It's cool dude, good for them, finding love an all. You guys seem cool enough. We should jam together sometime."
"Great!" Fletcher exclaimed, "How about now? Come on. we'll show you our pad. Harry, Dougie stop eating face. We have a guitarist to induct!"
"You want me to do what?" Tom coughed out between great bouts of sour-sweet smoke.
"All you have to do is…" Fletcher paused to take a hit from the pipe and exhale, " convince Bill that you're from a big time label and that he should sing with us. It'll be fine."
"Yeah and you have to sing at the brothel." Dougie added from his side of the smoke circle.
"Why?" Tom questioned, still confused about what his part in this was.
Harry answered after he took a drag on the pot, his voice horse and deep while he held the smoke in to talk, "Because people from all over the country come to see Bill dance. He's like the star of the brothel."
Danny continued for him as Harry erupted into a chorus of hacking coughs. "It would be the biggest venue we've ever played and a lot of celebrities come there to party. It would be like our big break. As long as Bill can convince Potts to let us.
"Potts?" Tom wheezed
"My boss." Dougie broke in, " He owns the brothel; kind of a creep, but cool enough. And he's half way in love with Bill."
"Which is why you have to make Bill say yes and have him ask Potts to let us. Potts will let Bill do anything especially if there's a chance he'll make money off of it." Fletcher
"And how exactly am I supposed to do all this?" Tom interjected, "Why can't one of you guys do it?"
Fletcher rolled his eyes, "Because he knows us. We go there all the time. But no one will know you. And I'm sure you'll figure out something."
"Show him your abs." Harry proclaimed.
"Are you sure you don't have anything better to wear Tom?" Fletcher whined as he looked up from Tom's bed and appraised Tom's wardrobe.
"What's wrong with my clothing?" Tom proclaimed as he looked down at his nicest shirt, white with black and red graphics, and his closest to designer pair of baggy jeans. He had even managed to get his dreads to fit nicely through his black sweat band and pristine white Sox hat. He thought he looked rather put together.
Fletcher rolled over and stood up just as Harry walked into the room, "Harry will you please tell Tom what is wrong with his choices in clothing."
Harry looked Tom up and down quickly and stated, "You look like you stepped out of a rap video and are going to rob the place." Tom stood there, jaw dropped in utter disbelief. "Oh, Fletch, Danny wants to see you before we leave, which if we want to get in should be in about 15 minutes. So get going."
"Fine," Fletcher groaned and turned to leave, "And Tom, we're taking you shopping one of these days I swear."
"Don't listen to him." Harry commented after Fletcher was out of hearing range. "He's just a diva. Now let's go find some ladies."
"Here, here!" Tom laughed as they exited Tom's room and headed out into the night.
The brothel was unlike any place Tom had ever been. His so called band mates had skittered away as soon as they had gotten in and so Tom, feeling not quiet comfortable yet decided a trip to the bar was much needed in an attempt to relax. The music was loud and the DJ spun the vinyl records into a pulsing beat that made the whole place feel like it moved to the rhythm of hot slow sex. There were booths surrounding the large, slightly sticky, wooden dance floor and Tom grimaced at the state his shoes would be in later as he walked toward the bar through the couples that were grinding against one another as if there wasn't enough time for them to find some dark and more private corner to commit the act.
Scattered about were caged landings where well endowed girls and scantly clad boys danced and swung their small curved hips to the beat. Tom spotted Dougie dancing on one of the long stages that spanned one side of the room and men and women alike were throwing bills at him. Tom shook his head when Dougie came up from a rather provocative back bend and smiled at him. Even though he had never really thought about it, he could see why Harry was infatuated with the boy.
Finally reaching the bar, Tom leaned against the smooth oak table top and tried to get one of the bar tender's attention. It was crowded and noisy and even when a bar tended walked right by him, the man seemed to ignore Tom completely and continue on to help a buxom blond at the end of the bar.
"What the fuck dude?" Tom yelled at the guy as he walked passed him for a third time.
There was a chuckle next to him and Tom realized someone had saddled up to the bar next to him. Turning to look at the person who had laughed at him Tom's eyes went wide. The young man next to him was to but it simply one of the most beautiful things Tom had ever laid eyes on.
He was tall, with a lithe frame and pale creamy skin that seemed to shimmer over his high cheek bones in the lights of the night club; looking even paler surrounded by his cvascade of ebony locks. His honey colored eyes were accentuated with dark kohl and his lips were plump and wet with what Tom could only imagine being a pale pink lip gloss.
The youth smiled at Tom suggestively, "If you want a drink you have to be a little sweeter, smile more. The bar tenders here are too into themselves to give a shit about anyone that doesn't look like they'll sleep with them."
"Is that so?" Tom mused
"Here I'll show you." the other said as he leaned over the bar and smiled at the blond bar tender who hadn't even acknowledged Tom's presence this entire time. "Hey babe, can you please get us some drinks?"
With a sly smirk the jerk glided over, "Anything for you doll. What do you need?"
Tom's new acquaintance smiled and rolled his hips a little playfully which not only captured the full attention of the bar tender but also Tom's. "Well, I'll have a long island ice tea. What will you have?" He ordered and then turned toward Tom.
Tom's eyes were still firmly glued to the youths thin hips and the glimpse of a star tattoo that blackened the skin there. "I'll have the same." Tom muttered.
The bartended rushed away to make their drinks and his companion cleared his throat to wake Tom out of his daze, "So I guess I should introduce myself, my name's Bill; Bill Trumper."
"Tom Kaulitz. It's good to meet you." Tom fumbled and tried to make his name sound cooler then it was.
Bill smiled softly and offered Tom his hand, "It's nice to meet you too Tom, so to what do I owe the honor of our meeting?"
Tom shook his hand just as their drinks arrived, "You actually."
Bill arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow in interest, "Me? Really now?"
"Yeah," Tom continued and tried to remember what he had practiced saying in the bathroom mirror about a hundred times in case this very event should happen. "I'm in the music industry and I'm looking for singer for a show that a band I… speak for is trying to set up. And as far as I've heard you're the best singer around."
Bill's eyes lit up like stars and a bright and an excited smile spread across his face at the compliment. His smile was dazzling and it hit Tom like a good punch in the gut. "Really?" Bill pressed, "What kind of music does your band play?"
"We're working on some original stuff right now, but we need a voice to make the lyrics come to life before we can really breath any true emotion into the music. Perhaps a voice like yours." Tom took a small step forward in another attempt to seem suave and not cheesy. "From what I've heard your voice is like listening to the sounds of utmost desire wrapped in a fog of unearthly beauty. A beauty so rare it melts the hearts of everyone who hears it." Tom almost cringed at how stupid he thought he sounded, but at least it had sounded better then the silly pick up lines Dougie and Fletcher had written up for him.
And luckily his improvisations seemed to have worked their magic. Bill, who had been about to take a sip at the straw to his drink, was frozen and slightly slack jawed; revealing a black studded tongue ring and Tom took a moment to fight back a shudder of lust at the thought of that tongue ring running along his skin. "So," Tom smiled and drew another few steps closer toward Bill until their faces were mere inches away, "What do you think?"
"I…Tom… are you serious?" Bill stammered and set his drink down to place a hand on Tom's bare forearm. And the moment of physical touch, skin to skin, was like magic. A shivering jolt swept through the pair, and left tingling in its wake. It was like their minds exploded into a thousand tiny pieces. The room around them no longer existed and together they were floating in a great expanse of white and left them panting with wild elation.
Tom was barely conscious enough to murmur a yes in reply before Bill's lips collided with his own and any thought process he may have had at that point was lost with in a sea of emotions and raw unexplored beauty. Somewhere off in the distance he could hear a moan and Tom nor Bill could tell which one it had come from but that it was collective and expressed something primal and needy that set them both on fire for each other.
However the moment was cut short by a vibration coming from Bill's jean pocket. Cursing as they separated, Bill reached into his skinny jeans and looked at his phone. "I'm sorry I have to go get ready for the show. I… whatever just happened. I don't know what it was but… just watch the show and then find me after. We'll talk." Bill declared albeit a little shaken and thrown off balance from the energy that they had shared and was still running though his veins like wildfire.
Tom could only nod in a lusty stupor, his mind still in wonder-shock as Bill ran off toward the stage door. He laughed softly as Bill ran into a rather brutal looking man with shoulder length brown hair and a sour smile. Bill dropped his phone and the man helped him pick it up, his sour face turning intrigued and sweet as he looked Bill up and down. Tom shrugged off the feeling of possessiveness that washed over him as the man received a thankful hug from Bill before Bill once again scurried off to his destination.
Tom glared at the man for a moment when their eyes met for a second but the icy eye contact was severed when a muscled and severe looking blond man stepped between them and ushered the man off toward the V.I.P area. Turning back to the bar, Tom decided he would try Bill's approach and smile; he needed another drink.
Back stage, Bill wandered happily into his dressing room and started to change into his costume for the show. Humming and mumbling words to his song, Bill couldn't stop himself from smiling. There was a warm and bubbling sensation in his chest and he vaguely recalled it being like having butterflies in his stomach but it was so much more then that. Something had happened between him and Tom Kaulitz and it had sent searing joy throughout his body.
Sure Tom had been dressed in outdated clothing that hid a body he had only pressed against for a moment but could tell it was built and strong; like velvet surrounding a core of steel. If he didn't know better from his line of work he would say that he had developed a crush on the youth. And he was the spokes person for a band. A band that we could front and sing in and finally become something more then… "More then a whore." Bill whispered to himself sadly as the reality of his life came crashing down around him once again.
With a shuttered exhale, Bill went back to his regular schedule of getting ready for a show. As he brushed out his hair and sprayed it up into it's iconic mane of black and white there was a knock on the door.
"Come in." Bill called from his vanity
Andrew Lee Potts waltzed into his room with his ever present smile and walked up to Bill in the same way he always did. To Bill it seemed as if Potts was always dancing; as if he always had music playing in his head; music and money.
"Bill," Potts said in his sing song way, "Bill, big news. There's a big time record label owner here tonight. And he wants to meet you."
Bill smiled happily at the reminder of Tom as he set about making his dark rimmed eyes more dramatic, "I know. I met him!"
"You did? Fantastic. Just think about it darling. He wants to turn this place into a real music venue." Potts announced as he put his hands on Bill's shoulders possessively. "And he wants to make my pet into a star."
Bill set down his make up and turned around to look at Potts, "Oh Andrew, it's a dream come true. I didn't know that he wanted to help the theatre though. He just said he was looking for a singer for one of his bands."
"Whatever he wants it's his. Perhaps he wants this place to be where one of his bands plays. Perhaps he wants a venue just for you to sing in. Whatever the case, you'll be a real singer, Bill. And I'll have a real music venue!" Potts sang and danced around the small dressing room. "Good bye whore house, hello concert hall!" Bill laughed happily and clapped his hands. "Oh Bill, Bill, Bill, it's everything we could have dreamed of. So after the show, you must take the nice man to your private suit and show him a good time. I want this set in stone darling and I know you can do it!"
"Of course Andrew, we'll pull out all the stops for this one." Bill cheered.
"I knew I could count of you pet!" Potts cooed brightly and clasped the sides of Bill's face in his hands to lean over and kiss Bill's forehead before whispering. "Sing like the angel you are my dear."
Bill smiled softly when they parted and Potts began his dance out the door, "I always do."
When Potts was gone and Bill was once again left alone, he turned and looked at his reflection, "But tonight it will be different. Tonight I'll be singing for Tom."
Author's Note: So here is Part 1 of 3 and I'd like to say that this is loosely based on Moulin Rouge and not a word for word following. So please don't flame and send me messages complaining about that. But please, please, please comment! I love hearing from you guys and hearing what you guys think.