Title: A Song To Say Goodbye...
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?
It was intense; seeing Bill in such a catatonic state, eyes dark and shining with want as he’d taken the sharpened metal to his flesh and tugged. Ivory skin fell open, crimson tears dripping free of his body. Then more, a tidal wave of his life’s essence slipping free from its restraints and soaking into the black duvet beneath his twisted, lithe body. Tom had watched quietly, stood back against the wall and witnessed his brother almost gleefully scar his flesh yet again. He ached to join, but willed it to stop. It had to stop. It had-
Tom closed his eyes, inhaling a sharp breath as he turned his head away. But the sounds were still there, low and keening.. Desperate and hungry. Tom’s lungs tightened beneath his breast, screaming for a fresh breath. He denied himself something so basic, something so essential until the darkness behind his lids gave way to brilliants spots of light. It was then, dizzy and nearing distraught that he’d allowed his gaze to venture back toward the bed.
Bill lay on his back, his porcelain skin tainted dark red, almost black. His eyes were pointed at the ceiling, heavy and lidded. Blissed out. Bill’s limbs spread out over the bed, his chest heaving rapidly, irregularly. He’d slid into a state of euphoria that Tom could never comprehend and oh, how he wanted to. He wanted to understand Bill’s mind, his thoughts and why he was the way he was.
Tom was fucked, that much was sure, but Bill? Catatonic… not strong enough a word. To cut was to breath. To eat. To live. To cut meant not to live.. eventually anyway. Tom wanted to follow. He’d follow Bill anywhere. To the end of the earth and back if he could, if Bill would allow… But Bill wanted to go further. He wanted to cross over. To another plane? Another reality?
What waited for them in the hereafter? Could Bill be happy? Was such a thing even possible? Tom willed it so. He willed it so. He’d will the sun to diminish entirely if it meant a sincere smile would crease the corner of Bill’s eyes and pull his lips taut. The imagery was breath taking.
“What are you doing?” Came a voice on the wind. Tom lifted his head from Bill’s bloodied thighs, arms, torso… and met his twin’s tired gaze. So tired… His energy literally drained from him. “Why are you still over there? I’m so lonely, Tomi.” Bill quietly breathed, gasping.
Tom swallowed hard and nodded, erasing the distance between them in three, short steps. Their bed was small, as they liked it, forcing their bodies to align as they spooned together beneath the blankets. This time, however, Tom simply kneeled beside the bed and lifted a damp cloth to wipe the traces of Bill’s hobby away.
“I wanted to watch.” He whispered, eyes lingering on the Bill’s bloodied fingerprints spattered across his fair skin. ’Like finger paint’ he thought, his brow furrowing as he scrubbed.
Bill’s eyes slid shut, moaning softly in appreciation of his brother’s attentive touch. “You watched.. Was it fun?” he asked, licking dry lips moist.
Tom nodded again, breathing in heavily through his nose.
Dark eyes fluttered open tiredly, their gaze fixed and pointed on their identical set. “I want to watch, Tomi. Can I- Can I watch?” He sounded like a child of seven, eager to see how a magic trick was done.
Tom’s breath caught in his chest, unnoticed to an untrained eye. “Yes.” He replied, clearing his throat as he rewet the cloth in a near empty glass of pinkening water.
Bill caught Tom’s hand as it moved to resume its cleansing and Bill whined, pulling with what little strength he’d left himself. “Let me watch.” Their eyes met, locked, each one daring the other to look away.
Tom relented, lowering his gaze to where their skin connected, and closed his eyes. “Bill-“
“Let me watch.” Bill pleaded, lifting his head off the pillow. “I want to see.. I haven’t seen you in so long… I want-“
Bill smiled softly, watching as Tom dropped the washcloth back into the cup and climbed onto the bed. He hovered over Bill for a moment, their chest slipping and sliding together in the dampness of blood and water still wet on Bill’s abdomen. The skin pulled, opened, and bled anew and Tom whimpered, settling onto Bill’s side and letting his fingers trace the open wounds. His eyes watered at the corner’s and Bill sighed softly, his fingers tugging at Tom’s chin until their eyes renewed their gaze.
“Let me do it?” Bill’s eyes were clouded and distant, but pleading nonetheless. Tom could never, would never, deny him. Bill waited a moment, waited for a sign of acceptance, then reached for the discarded blade at his side.
Their bodies rolled, fresh traces of Bill’s blood dripping and smearing over Tom’s clean skin as Tom rolled onto his back and Bill moved to straddle the older boy’s thighs. Bill groaned with the effort but stubborn in his task, lay the tip of the blade against his brother’s bare flesh. Tom shivered, his eyes fluttering between open and shut before looking down the expanse of his body.
His brother, his beautiful, ethereal brother, trailing the dagger over warm skin that goose pimpled in its wake.
“So beautiful, Tomi.” Bill cooed, his tongue peeking out from between plush, pale lips as he sought out a righteous spot. “Tell me when.”
Tom closed his eyes and concentrated on the soft scratching, letting his head loll back into the pillow as he waited. The blade traveled over his torso, the sharp edge biting at his ribs, his collarbone. Nipping at his hip until he finally nodded, and Bill keened.
The unforgiving blade seeped into tender flesh, tearing at innocent skin just above Tom’s hipbone. Tom winced, a low growl traveling up his throat in retaliation. Bill moaned gently, his body leaning forward ever so slightly as he concentrating on the dagger’s movements. Blood pooled beneath the tip and Bill whimpered aloud, his lips parted in pleasure.
“So…so beautiful…” Bill whispered.
Tom swallowed hard and canted his head, his own lips parting to take a breath. “Harder.”
Bill waited but a moment before doing as asked, pushing the metal deeper into his brother’s skin, pulling the handle toward himself in an effort to release more. More beauty. More Tom.
“Fuck…” Tom hissed, his body shuddering involuntarily at the pain. His hips arched off the bed, only serving to plunge the dagger deeper, penetrating the tough muscle beneath. Tom gasped, his eyes and mouth opening wide at the feeling.
Bill hushed his brother, trailing after the blade with soothing fingers. “Shh… I’m right here, Tom. Always right here.” He breathed, reassuring his older brother of his presence. Their connection.
“Right here.” Tom echoed, and forced his body to lay flat on the bed again.
“I love you.” Tom lay beside his brother, his beloved twin, and trailed pink lips over the length of a long, swanlike neck. The younger breathed in rhythm with Tom’s heart, unaware as the older slipped free from the bed and hid in the corner, quietly dressing his wounds with wet eyes.
An hour… One hour since Ana had replenished their stock and now they were out. Tom wound the rest of the gauze around his waist, taping the edge in place and dropping the empty roll to the ground. In one short hour, they’d used up two rolls of medical tape and several packages of rolled gauze. Bill’s body, half white, half red.. the rest untouched skin.
It wouldn’t remain untouched for long, Tom knew. He knew.
Tom lifted his head, smoke trailing freely past his lips as his eyes roamed the nearly empty parking lot. It was late, past midnight.
“Tom? It is you. What are you doing out so late?”
“I could ask the same of you, Georg.”
Georg smiled, taking after Tom and leaning against the brittle brick wall, watching as the blond nursed his cigarette slowly. “Just got off work about twenty minutes ago.” He replied, shrugging carelessly. “Inventory. You?”
Tom averted his eyes, carefully, nudging the small brown bag at his feet into the shadows beside the dumpster. “Needed smokes.” He lied, holding up a half empty pack.
Georg nodded in understanding, holding up his own unopened pack. “Didn’t know you smoked.”
“Stress will do that to you.”
Tom smirked slowly, looking through dark lashes at the older, inquisitive male. “You ask a lot of questions.”
Georg grinned, pulling a lighter from his pocket and lit a fresh cigarette. “You don’t exactly offer a lot of answers.”
“Ever wonder why that is?” Tom deadpanned, stomping his own cigarette out with a heavy boot.
“Ouch. Someone’s in a mood.” Georg pursed his lips, watching as Tom merely shrugged his lifted his eyes to the sky, eyeing the moon it seemed. “Everything ok?”
“Is anything ever really ok?”
“Cryptic.” Georg observed, taking a drag. “Speaking in riddles now, are we?”
“Ok… how about this. What’s up with you and your brother?”
Tom whipped his head around, staring straight into Georg’s eyes.
“Ah, touched a nerve. Would he be the key to your problem?”
“You don’t know shit us. Don’t try to act like you’re all knowing, Georg because you’re just another passing face in the crowd.”
Georg stared blankly, almost hurt at Tom’s harsh words. His hands lowered to his sides and he pushed away from the brick wall. “What’s the supposed to mean, Tom? I don’t know you because you won’t let me know you.”
“It means, don’t go getting attached.” Tom offered very little in explanation, looking back toward the sky. His eyes closed, as if sunning himself in the cold moonlight.
“And why not? You not allowed to have friends?” He scoffed, tossing his own half finished cigarette to the ground. “Not allowed to play nice with others or something?”
“Don’t need others.”
Georg gawked, not expecting such a reply. “You’re fucked up, you know that?”
“I’m well aware.”
“And what, you just don’t care?”
Georg watched as Tom bent over, his face contorting into a mask of pain as he snatched up a bag from the shadows.
“Nothing.” Tom wadded the bag up and shoved it into the front pocket of his hoodie.
“Don’t fucking lie to me. You look like you’re in pain.”
“And if I am?”
“Jesus, Tom! Stop it with the cryptic shit already!” Georg yelled, taking a step back. Tom’s eyes steeled him in place, nearly stopping his heart. “What happened.”
“Nothing I didn’t expect to happen. Nothing that won’t happen again and nothing I didn’t readily ask for.”
Georg’s head swam, question after question fighting to flee his lips. He settled on one. “Are you some kind of masochist?”
Tom laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “Georg, don’t pretend like you know me. I didn’t ask you to psycho analyze me nor did I ask you to try befriending me.” Licking his lips, Tom rolled his weight from one leg to the other, biting back a hiss as pain exploded in his abdomen.
Georg frowned. “Who hurt you?” His words were slow, calculated, and he watched Tom’s face to see his response.
Tom looked away, his jaw hardening as his eyes did the same. “No one hurt me.” He whispered, clearing his throat and resuming a mask of indifference. “Not in the right sense anyhow.”
Georg rolled his eyes, turning away. “You know what… I-“ He faltered, growling in frustration. “I don’t even know, Tom.”
Tom shrugged, scuffing his boots on the side of the cement curb. “I didn’t ask you to know anything.”
“I’ve never had such a deep conversation with someone and come out of it so confused. Have you always been like this?” Georg wondered aloud. Large his dug into deep pockets, hiding away from the cooling night air.
Tom grinned. “I don’t know, Georg. Maybe if you’d known me a long time ago…” His grin faded into a hollow smile. “But then, that wouldn’t have mattered anyways. Good night, Georg.” Tom stepped down off the curb, looking both ways before running across the busy road.
Tom stopped once he reached the other side, turning to see Georg standing on the opposite side, his expression unreadable.
“Will you be around next week?”
Tom’s heart sank into the catacombs of his belly, beating feebly. “I honestly don’t know.” Without waiting for another question, Tom walked off until his back faded into the night.