Title: A Song To Say Goodbye...
Rating: NC17 (Eventually)
Disclaimer: Do not own the boys/band/music sadly
Warnings: Abuse, Adult Content, Blood, Drug Use, Major Character Death, OOC, Suicide, WIP
Summary: Bill and Tom both suffer from bipolar disorder. As the years since their diagnosis has passed they've become all but recluse, hiding away in the basement bedroom they share.
Bill begins to withdraw from Tom, his depression slowly overtaking him. When things take a turn for the worse they choose to form a suicide pact. When the time comes to enact it, Tom begins to have second thoughts. With Bill so set on going through with it, can Tom stop him in time before the suicide pact becomes a single case of teen suicide?
Author's notes: This is my first, actual TH Fic. Please be honest?
Bill sat upon his bed, leaning against the wall with his eyes shut as he tightly clamped his hand around his left wrist. Crimson drops peaked from between his fingers, edging their way through and sliding down the back of his hand. Slowly, his head fell back against the wall, his eyes fluttering shut as his mouth fell open, haggard breaths escaping. Though fresh tears still ran down his cheeks he could feel himself calming, an unexplainable peace rushing from his head down to his toes.
It was a day like the day before and surely every day to come. He couldn’t remember the last time he had left the house. He didn’t see a point really. He had no urge to go anywhere, to do anything or see anyone. He had Tom when he needed him, if he needed him. If he wanted something from the store his mother would retrieve it. His only desires were music and this. All other things, like food and drink, were simply tools that kept him alive longer, though he really didn’t see the point in that either. He had trouble finding a point in anything anymore, simply going through the motions so to speak. That notion used to scare him, but not anymore. He welcomed the inevitable. It was, after all, his call.
“Bill?” Bill’s eyes pop open, trying to focus on the voice that has just intruded on him and his special time. Standing in the doorway at the foot of the basement stairs was his mother, Ana, a small mouse of a woman. There was once a time when Bill would hide this little ritual from his mother. He can remember those days fondly, though he knew she hadn’t been as daft as she had tried to appear.
Bill made no attempt to hide what he had been doing; rather he furrowed his brow in question of her.
“I um...” Her words faltered as she tried to look anywhere else but directly at her youngest son. “I was heading to the store. Do you need anything?” Her averted eyes didn’t fool Bill. He knew the constant look of sorrow that lingered there like he knew the trail of scars that spanned across his body.
Shaking his head no, he carefully slid from the bed and crossed the room to grab a damp washcloth from the coffee table in front of the couch. After placing it over the deep cut, he allowed himself to fall onto the couch beside Tom who had just lit a cigarette.
“Some more gauze and medical tape?” Tom asked mundanely, catching her attention as he tossed the lighter back on the coffee table and leaned into his brother. He rested his head on Bill’s shoulder and slid his hand across Bill’s lap, twining their fingers together. His eyes bore right into Ana’s, daring her to comment on his request. Her mouth opened a bit in shock, not at the request but at hearing it again so soon.
“Tom, I just… not three days ago…” She struggled.
“Well, we’re out.” He replied. He cleared his throat and raised his head to look over at Bill. Bill had completely checked out the conversation, his eyes staring at the wall across the room though not really seeing it. Grabbing the last bit of gauze off the table, Tom looked at his mother pointedly before gently removing the washcloth from Bill’s wrist and beginning to fashion a bandage in its place. Bill simply sat there, limp and lifeless as a rag doll.
Ana swallowed and nodded her response before quietly retreating back up the stairs. Now safe in the kitchen, she leaned her back against the closed basement door and placed her hand over her mouth to quiet her despair. She felt for her sons, wishing with all her might that she could take pull their pain from them and take it into herself, freeing their young souls to live the lives they had yet to start. At the same time she felt a fear of them, one she could never put into words because she herself couldn’t understand it.
The tender touches and stolen glances they seemed to think went unnoticed… it worried her. Had they secluded themselves so much the past nineteen years that their only source of comfort was now each other? What about love, romance, marriage and kids? Ana’s heart sank every time the urge for grandkids crossed her mind almost as though she knew that that was a life she would never get to enjoy.
Tom and Bill had always been very solitary their entire lives, never bothering to attempt making friends at school. Never joining any clubs or did anything outside the house. When the boys began to approach their teen years she had hope that they would grow out of it and became ecstatic when Tom decided to take up guitar, but she was left in disappointment when he refused lessons in favor of buying a book song books and teaching himself to play.
At age fourteen she decided to take them to see a therapist. It simply couldn’t be normal for them to be so withdrawn from anything and everything. Her suspicions were confirmed when the Dr. diagnosed them both with Bipolar disorder. Bill was diagnosed as acute depressive as well.
A single mother since their birth she didn’t know how to treat her boys. They seemed to get along just fine with one another, needed to be together as much as they needed to breathe. When she found out about the cutting, she chose the wrong path and ignored it in hopes that it would end. How do you approach someone like her sons and tell them that they can’t cut their own body? It’s their own bodies to do with as they pleased. Ana was a quiet withdrawn woman herself with her own problems.
Though she loved her sons dearly and wished she could do something for them, she simply wasn’t the parenting type. Not that she didn’t wish she was she just simply didn’t have the skills. For months she had tried to act the part, artery clogging homemade breakfasts every morning and spoiling the two to now end. Nothing she tried could bring a light to Bill’s eyes.
As time had gone on, however, the greater knowledge that her sons were partaking in beyond sinful activities could be ignored by her no more. The noises that wafted through the vents from the basement to her own bedroom were cries made in the heat of passion. That first night she was overcome by her own pain and nausea, she descended low enough to attempt trying Bill’s way of coping. She hadn’t been brave enough to make more than a scratch. Her sons were incestuous and she was nothing but an enabler but not putting a stop to it. Lord have mercy on her…
Wiping her eyes, Ana grabbed her purse and coat from the coat rack and after checking her makeup in the hallway mirror, she headed out the door.
“You alright, Bill?” Tom asked quietly. He wrapped the last bit of tape tight around the gauze and leaned forward to put himself in Bill’s line of sight. It took him a moment but Bill finally focused on him.
“What?” His voice was groggy and confused. It seemed he wasn’t entirely there.
“You ok? You went a little deeper than usual this time…” Tom reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Bill’s ear. His finger tips lingered on Bill’s cheek a moment before withdrawing.
“Oh…” Came his reply. “Sorry.” Tom sighed and wrapped his arms around Bill, pulling him to his chest as he leaned back into the couch.
“What am I going to do with you?” He worried aloud. Bill curled up against him, tucking his head under Tom’s chin and sniffled like a child, his body beginning to shake. “Shhh… it's ok Bill. Tomi’s here.” Bill nodded, wiping his eyes with the collar of Tom’s shirt before sitting back.
“I’m sorry Tomi…” He trailed off, not knowing what to do with himself. These past few days he felt himself slipping more and more into what he himself called “darkness”. During these phases, all he could feel was an intense pressure inside weighing him down, pushing him and pushing him until he was left feeling so completely empty. It was times like these that he cut, not to make his internal anguish physical, but to feel anything at all. He just wanted to feel. Even feeling something for Tom now was a struggle and though he knew that should scare him, feeling nothing for his twin/lover, he just didn’t care. “It’s drawing near.” He whispered.
Tom swallowed and nodded, looking into his brother’s sunken eyes. “I know.” He grabbed Bill’s hairbrush from where it had been discarded on the floor and twirled his finger, signaling for Bill to turn. Bill complied and turned his back to him, pulling his knees to his chest. As Tom began gingerly pulling the bristles through the tight tangles Bill fingered the fresh bandage. “Have you thought about it anymore?” Bill nodded then hissed and the brush ran into a snag. “Sorry.” Tom apologized, trying to work it out. Freely the brush, he worked at the ends and then started from the top once more. “And?” He inquired, curious as to what his twin was thinking.
“I’m still not sure.” He whispered, closing his eyes. The bristles running across his scalp felt heavenly. It had been days since Tom had forced him into the shower and he knew he was due for another, but he couldn’t gather the energy to do it. As a result, his greasy hair had been left to tangle. “I don’t want it to hurt. My whole life has been nothing but pain…” He sighed.
Tom leaned forward placed a kiss on the back of Bill’s head before returning to grooming his hair. “Any ideas?” To an outsider, the conversation wouldn’t make much sense but Bill and Tom had decided years ago that should one ever take it as far as to end their own life, the other wouldn’t want to be left behind. To live while the other half of you dies… they might as well be the living dead. At the tender age of fifteen, they made a suicide pact. When one brother was ready to go, the other would join as well. Though they never voiced it, they both knew that the decision of departure would inevitably be Bill’s.
“No guns… I don’t want to take turns.” Bill turned, taking the brush from Tom’s hand and sitting it on the table before taking Tom’s hands in his own. “I don’t want one to watch the other die before joining. I want it to be simultaneous. I don’t want to watch you go while I wait, and I wouldn’t want to put that upon you either.” His voice nearly broke again as he looked deeply into his brother’s eyes. “I want it to be peaceful, like falling asleep…” Lifting himself into Tom’s lap Bill wrapped Tom’s arms around him and leaned his head against Tom’s shoulder, snuggling against him. “Like this.” A sad smile adorned his lips and he knew Tom was mimicking him. He chuckled softly and looked back at Tom, planting a slow kiss against his lips.
“No guns.” Tom agreed, tightening his arms around Bill.
“And I don’t want it to hurt… so, what’s left?” He asked, looking lost.
“I don’t care as long as we do it together.” Tom replied honestly. “But personally, I like Juliet’s style. Maybe...” He paused, thinking. “What if we used daggers?” Bill furrowed his eyes and moved to pull away. “No wait.” He held on tighter to Bill and waited until he settled back into him. “Hear me out. What if it wasn’t suicide? What if we use our daggers and…” He found himself lost for words.
Sitting up straight, he adjusted himself on the couch until Bill was sitting on his lap with his back to Tom’s chest. Raising his hand, he held it in front of Bill’s chest as if holding a dagger and slowly moved it toward his body as if sliding an imaginary blade into his breast. At the same time, he lowered his mouth to Bill’s neck and began to kiss and lick the sensitive skin. Bill’s head rolled to the side as his eye fluttered shut.
“We could literally do each other.” He smirked softly.
“Won’t it hurt?” Bill whimpered softly. Tom gently sank his teeth into Bill’s neck and Bill’s back arched into him as Tom pushed his hand harder into Bill’s chest.
“Depends on what we’re doing at the time.” He whispered huskily. “Born into pain, leave the same…”
Bill smirked a bit, getting the hint. “It could work…” They both ceased moving and held each other as their minds worked as one. At last, Bill’s voice shattered the silence.
“Ok.” Tom cocked his head to the side wondering if Bill was for real. “But for such an occasion as this, they have to be special.” He licked his lips and looked around the room, trying to search for the correct words. “I… I’m willing to venture outside for a few hours…” Tom’s eyes widened in genuine surprise.
The last time Bill had been outside this tiny house was four years ago when Bill had been forced into the back of an ambulance and taken to the ER to have his stomach pumped. After a week-long stay in the adolescence psychiatric ward under 24 hour suicide watch, his meds had been upped and he’d been sent home. The night of his return, Tom had cornered him and threatened that if Bill ever tried that again, and left him behind, he’d follow suit. The idea of Tom dying along without Bill there to comfort him frightened him to his very core. That was the night they established their pact. At fifteen, they’d even gone as far as to sign contract to each other in blond. Months ago when the subject had come up again Bill had thought the blood contracts had been childish at the time, but Tom still kept his in his wallet so it would be there at all times.
“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right. Ok?” Bill asked quietly, his eyes beginning to water again. Tom silently nodded, his eyes mirroring his twins. “Together, forever. No looking back, and no… no regrets.” Bill whispered, his voice faltered past a quiet sob before burying his face in Tom’s shirt.
Tom swallowed and held Bill close. “Together, forever. No looking back. And no regrets…”