Movement Sensor Diagram

I do solemnly swear that I'll never write more stuff like that. u_u '

Title: forever walking alone
Fandom: Tokio Hotel
Torque: tom / bill
Prompt: 030. death
Rating: PG-13

and December snows, to Loitsche. It's cold, is pretty damn cool. Do not you leave the house for "a walk", but this is the excuse that you have served up to yours, and they pretended to believe. To you, the cold does not care: Do not you feel it more now. You no longer feel the wind blowing against you, making you eyes water; you no longer feel the snowflakes that you settle in your hair and insistence on the jacket, so wide that you could easily do from the deck. No, you do not hear anything.
Stay there, sitting on the grass, infringing jeans that mush that is not snow, and that your mother will be hell to hair, when they put in the washing machine, you stay there, sitting on the grass, leaning with back to the stone, however, the devil does the hair come to you. It is bare, bare: there is a name written on it. There is his name written on it. Bordered by a boundary of brass, over which there is a picture that does not makes it justice at all: he was not so, that's not her smile, there is nowhere near. Further down, just above the edge of the frame, in the right corner, there are two dates: continue to haunt us, undaunted. That's your life, and that of your death. Numbers are just numbers, I tell you thousands and thousands of times in the head but they are a tangible, unequivocal. They are there, in stone, and continue to be to slap in the face that takes you back to reality, making you constantly aware that there is no going back. But you'd like, all right: you would like to get on his knees, picking up a box of colors, as you did children, and pull a Rigacci above on that date. The cancellation, line upon line, as you did when you did not like how I drew the face of the mother, and all would be resolved. That date would never have existed, and now I'll still have all the time in the world before. Would you have time to laugh, to play, to go around clubs and the small hours, to argue and then make peace. But it does not work like that, you know.
mumbled something, the items covered by the collar of the vest that hold up to the cheeks, and you wonder even when the words will come out with a spontaneity and a carefree childhood elementary school: you do not tremble as the throat, when you're there, and do not know whether to be relieved or if dovertene despair. Speaks for itself, speak for hours, as you always have the arm moves, calm, and the hand touches up and down the contours of the stone, and automatic in the same way it was done on his arm if he had been there with you: you do not realize the fingertips and knuckles almost white with purple because of the wind. Go on, undaunted, talking and talking, smiling at some memory, and even respond to the questions that you alone, if necessary, laughing, when you make some silly joke, and your own laughter echoes in my ears as if you were someone else: is unstressed, high-pitched, almost annoying. It is not a laugh , think, laugh and thought that even more, yet more shrill, crying because you have no more strength. And you feel guilty, you feel so fucking guilty, why should you cry, you cry until you splash your eyes bulging, why would you show a damn bit of compassion and instead all you know to do is sit on the grass laughing and talking to himself like a moron.
"A year ago today," you say suddenly, recovering from hysterical laughter and fake so acute that we even have pinched the vocal cords. You do not know how to go forward, you do not know what to say; today is one year from when? Since you're dead sounds too rude; since you left me sounds pathetic and victim; since I stopped living , yes, if you are looking for a way to make him feel guilty, then it is the right phrase; since you're gone can go well: it is neutral, not accusing anyone, should not take offense.
Return to Parliament also in that speech that you wanted to tackle more than ten months, but you've never had the balls to start. Tell him that you miss, you say that's not his fault, tell him you love him, and when you're going to get to the point, you stop. Not your fault, it is he who has stopped you: you ask how are the others, and let you lose the argument and began an account of what happened this year.

David? David is the neurotic asshole that has always been and always will be. It was not insensitive, not that. He understood that you were missing, he realized he was a shot for you irreparable harm. He understood, yes, but it did not make it to an understanding person. A month has given you a month to recover: You understand this? Of course you shouted insults against all possible, when you refused to replace it with some stranger. Was not spared in insults, arrived even threatened to cite in court, if I left it all before the expiry of the contract, due to sky, the contract has expired eight months ago. He literally put his hands in his hair, when he realized how sick were you doing, how you made a crap without him. You have finished the tour, and then you loose. I hope if they are enjoying to the last, his money of shit, "muttered looking back at your ex-employer.

Gustav and Georg? Do not you hear them more often, and it is enough to make you get in the groove guilt. They tried to help, I have always been close, but you've thanked them and told them that you could not do anything. Since that day, just keep all three together in the same room was unbearable: he was missing, and the emptiness he felt more than in any other situation. There were no more Tokio Hotel and there were no more dreams and hopes of four boys, there was no more laughter, jokes and teasing. There were only three persons in one room, one of which refused even to speak and to be approached. Them, they have realized that yes: you have left all over the world time to recover, and they told you that when ever I needed it, you always could count on them. Do you see them again, once a week, but the circumstances are not the best, start a conversation on his grave, while one of the flowers is based, is not exactly what you need to return to renew the relationship you had before.

Andreas? Did not let go even for a second. At first, if I had the strength, you'd driven from your house to kick your ass: no one ever went, spent weeks without coming home, sometimes you find him in bed when you woke up together, and threw it down badly, the other side. He smiled, and said that you had done it only because I kept turning over in his sleep, crying. Even now, from time to time, you wake up in the middle of the night and leave the house, cross the road and go to him and he always welcomes you with open arms, even when you do not deserve. He is always there, but it is not him that you need. And know this, but try to take his place: If we consciously or not, this is not clear. He does not care if you only if you're really depressed or whims: Do not think twice to give you a couple of slaps when you say shit, and now you have even lost count of how many times the red outline of his hand you will be printed cheeks, and when, every damn time, remained staring open-mouthed, his hand on the cheek to cover the redness, I replied that he, in his place, would do the same. And you make you cry and you dive into his arms, although that is not the hug you need. Andreas is the only person on earth that you are doing something really useful, and you, however, continue to give concern about the worry, all the remaining days sitting near the stone, snow, rain, hail, or whatever.

Dad? Can not you see more do not know how. He does not care about you, as you do not care anything about him, he has come to see you a couple of times after that day, and in none of these occasions proved to be a good father. The first time you saw it, was at his funeral was there, sitting in one of the first bench, head down and fully dressed, but you could not tell if he really was sorry, not that that day you are able to understand much, in general. In confusion of those memories, you think you've seen talking with Mom, but do not know what those are. It also came from you, you said something, then you shook hands and hugged you: cold, uncaring. That's all I remember the embrace. The second time was when you had to spend the New Year with him and his girlfriend was not at all a party exemplary, indeed, ended in chaos. He knew how you were, indeed, probably did not know, because to him, you and your brother never cared too much. We gave the ball to the foot, when you refused to come down for dinner, gave you the child, when he saw you cry, and has even tried to give you a slap in the face when you tell them to get their dicks. You yelled at him, you called him of all the colors at the end, I have sent a fuck, you went out, slamming the door and you shot through Hanover, you are looking for a taxi back home. Since that day, he no longer dared to turn up.

Mom and Gordon? They do not make anymore. Mother is hopeless; Gordon does is spend his time to console her. Have you been a disappointment, a huge disappointment, were you the only child they have, and instead make them happy, even if you act like you existed anymore. Mom has tried in every way to get back, and even now is struggling to love you and believe that sooner or later back to normal. He is worried to death, you've almost made you a nervous breakdown, when did you stop talking, and when did you stop eating, then, did not know how to make out. He tried to calm down, but the sight of yet another flat left without even being touched by your cheeks and almost blue because of all the slaps you that Andreas had trimmed, no longer has cancer. It was ironically funny that evening was to see you, he would put two good laugh. You, curled up in bed, my cheeks purple rivulets of tears streaming down your face, Andreas, you yelled back, yelling that he did not want to hear more take out the argument, and the mother, who, with the plate still in hand, had dropped to the ground and had to forcibly remove Andreas, dragging him down the stairs and thrown out of home, all while yelling at breakneck speed that no longer had to put to touch you. The next day, you found yourself on the couch of a psychoanalyst skin of Magdeburg. Even now we go once a week, but it's just a waste of money, you understand it yourself at home you must be cheerful, happy and peaceful. The part of the chant, but not enough: the smiles are increasingly stretched, his eyes growing glassy, and the excuses to go out every day at the usual time less and less credible.

You? You're not as neither good nor evil. You have arrived to a state of apathy so advanced that you suck alone; you look in the mirror and wish you only break your face: you've tried the first few times, but the third and fourth bandaged hand mirror changed in about a week, the sink has become off-limits. You know you should stop complaining, because if he could give you even more blows than you do not already have data Andreas, you know you should try to go forward, because if he could you say that you're an idiot, and started to fight. But you also know that you can not do with it for a reason, because if he could at this time you were with him in a hotel room and you'd be so busy with his kisses do not even hear the voice Saki stressed that tells you that you will be late to the next interview, you know your world has completely stopped, because if he could be with you backstage at some local ran a hand through his hair, blown on the neck and tell you that I will never leave. And instead, he left you, and how if you left.

And, come to that point, return the argument that we had to stop first, and say you're sorry. Do you mind, I'm sorry, and I'm sorry, you can think of thousands of words to say to him, all meaningless. Ask him if he remembers their promise, and you say you're sorry, the memories that you had to go away together, that if one of you was gone, the other would follow him without flinching, and yet you're sorry; to apologize because you could not follow him, because you had a fucking afraid to kick the bucket, and I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry ; you sorry for not having the courage to die, and I regret even more because you did not even have the courage to live and you're a fucking asshole that does not even have the balls to drop everything and go by the one person who means to you everything.
you afraid that he is no longer there, you fear that you went away now not solve anything, because you are no longer together, you wonder why you stopped believing in God if you had continued, Perhaps now you would have the certainty that he is really up there somewhere, that you are watching and waiting for you, however, does not even have that belief, and you're still there, nailed to the ground staring at the plaque and think that there ' is nothing for you that it's over, you're talking to himself like an idiot and that nobody, nobody you are listening while you continue to repeat Tom, I love you , sobbing tears and great if you thought that it finished back down on that fuckin abundant stone slab that separates you.

Periodontist Salary In Canada

anbilivebol * Q *

Title: caught red-handed (fifth chapter)
Fandom: tokio hotel
Torque: tom / bill
Prompt: 006. Hours
Rating: PG-13

Gustav and Georg were basically two people who were doing their own business. The first because it was pursuing the philosophy of "live and let live" and, especially since he did not like to stay in the spotlight too long, even inferred that the others did too nice to be on everyone's lips, especially when the news that turned into his own account had not exactly taken from reliable sources: in short, the gossip was not at all his daily bread. The other, on the contrary, had shown more than once accustomed to having to deal with gossip from the entertainment world, and he had to admit that you are interested in easily, but in his case it was lucky that he turned his back: he had the constancy or the excessive desire to follow the news on the love-story, so he found himself constantly late with the updates, and an accomplice really bad timing, in the end she always managed to make lean figure, pulling in conversations in which sported a long string of gaffes straparlando of facts already completed for weeks, and his decision to leave the world of evil speech was more than anything else, an action to maintain a minimum self-respect.
Despite the general disinterest, Gustav could not help but throw George out of bed as soon as he found himself in front of the nose on the cover of the newspaper depicting the Kaulitz twins in very compromising poses that saw them involved in the photo where the distance Recommended minimum security to stay in a fraternal relationship was purely platonic beautifully ignored.
Half dazed and still painful, the bass player had every intention to punish severely, both physically and mentally, no matter who had woken up that way, but all I could do was stand still, gasping, to see themselves ahead, kept swinging in the newspaper carefully one end to the drummer, Bill and Tom intertwined with such fervor that seemed imprimerglisi image in the mind focused and had the impression that it would take months and months of psychotherapy sessions to avoid nightmares.
Okay, rumors put about on account of the twins were on the agenda, and it was common agreement ignore them, but them coming printed on the front page was a whole different kettle of fish: the gossip magazines talk constantly of "twincest "left and right, but no one had ever dared to add items to photoshop some stupid little job done by some fans out of their minds for fear of being accused of defamation and having to close the cabin. So really happened was something concrete? The night before Gustav and Georg had helped them to cover the output Sankt Pauli, holding the game to meet the concerns of David, but now began to regret having done so, what had exalted those two combined?
"It's a montage, no? "Georg mumbled, not hiding a shiver down my spine. 'It is also good, dare I add. "
" I heard David yell in the hallways. "Gustav said with diplomacy, masterful dribbling demand. "I do not think what they wanted. "
" Ask yourself why. "Murmured the bassist, snatched the paper and throwing it on the bed. "The hotel room the Kaulitz? "
" 483. "
'joke, right? "
" I do not think so. "
" Oh, hell. "Georg finally blurted out, standing up with every intention of going to demand an explanation, regardless of the fact that it is still in shirt and pants.
was already halfway down the corridor when Gustav, keys in his pocket and closed the door and followed him quietly, holding a resigned sigh.

Two things could very well make him rise in the bile to the ears. The first was Tom Kaulitz in the throes of a nervous breakdown, and the second was Tom Kaulitz in the throes of a nervous breakdown that slams the door in his face.
"Tom, do not let me use the duct to penetrate the air conditioning in the room. "Georg replied impatiently after he found the room number in bronze a couple of inches from his nose.
"What is it? "Asked the blonde, opening the door just enough enough to check the head of the slot. If the answer was comfortable grip, so comfortable that the bassist was already trying to force the pipe using the keys of their room, stealing properly to Gustav.
"" What "we should ask him. "Said the larger of the two, parandoglisi front. "What the fuck happened last night? "
" A mess. "Muttered simply Tom, decided to break off the conversation there.
"Thank fuck. "George snapped, putting his foot in the door before it is shut in the face again.
"Not now, George. "
" And when? We are here in the band, what combination is also our business. "
" Honestly, not now. We have a press release tomorrow, David wants us dead, Bill is out of action and will decide tomorrow if you do not calm down, and I am having a neurotic attack. "
" Yes, but-"
" Georg. "Interrupted Gustav. "You know that you will not get anything like this, now if Tom is not going to talk about it. "Pulled him back, slide off the foot of the door. "See to tell us something, soon. "He concluded, turning to Tom.
With a grunt, it slammed the door, after murmuring a phrase like read newspapers and watch TV tomorrow.


The next morning, the air was impregnated so as to be almost unbearable tension. They were barely six in the morning when Bill, after a good half an hour spent in turning over in bed, she realized that would not be able to sleep: glancing at his side, made a face to see that Tom was standing sprawled comfortably in the facial expression of those who would not have even woken up to the sound of gunfire.
The press conference is not started until noon, and had the impression that those hours were spent with a slow grueling to say the least. And he was right: he had done and undone the bag at least three times, emptying the cupboards and clear the room of any outfit thrown in bulk on the floor, chairs and even under the bed, bowing back and then placing them with an almost obsessive thoroughness, but a quick look at the clock revealed that there were still ten minutes until it was seven.
In his exasperation, folded close in the bathroom, in a bid to a relaxing shower, but that he had relaxed very little: if, in fact, in order to put in the suitcase had kept the mind busy to catalog clothing second improbable shades of color, now all thoughts seemed to have had the bright idea of ammassarglisi head. Tom said that he would have thought of everything, but, ironically, was exactly what worried him more: Tom and he was stubborn in the same way, the problem was that almost always had totally different ideas, and this meant that compromises were nothing short of utopian discourse. Leave it to Tom, in this case, meant inevitably deny everything and, as he himself was aware that was the most (and probably only) logical solutions, not feel able to do so. The main difference between his brother and he was that about him, rumors of bad there were already in abundance, and its level of tolerance had now crossed the line for quite a while.
only thought was selfish and arrogant, and he was perfectly aware of this, but he was sick of having to do anything because otherwise any shade his attitude could discredit the reputation of the band or record label: do not give a damn what would happen next, he wanted to be in deciding what was right for him, wanted people to understand that he, before a freak to Talk About, was, first, a person. But the biggest problem was that they did not feel strong enough to do it, do not have the courage nor the nerve to flaunt to the world that yes, he was with his brother, who cares what the fuck them? He came out of the shower
thoughtfully, with the impression of having spent an eternity to brood about the latest events and upcoming ones, but when the clock marked seven thirty-five yet, we just lacked that would give the head of everything and it started pulling their hair out in clumps, such was the desperation, and, while studying what to pull out of the bag for the occasion - a-ha, note the sarcasm - he had the impression that the hours that separated him from the long-awaited walk to the gallows would have been far more terrible than it would have been the same gallows.

When Tom was pleased to open our eyes, it was ten or half past: Bill, meanwhile, had plenty of time to dry your hair, fiddling with the plate and lacquer to try to give him a turn at least presentable, look in the mirror and not at all satisfied with the result, driven back into the shower a second time and riasciugarseli, leaving this time, falling straight down below her shoulders. In addition, he had already done the trick and defeated a couple of times more than usual and, despite even that outcome inspired him so much, he opted for a thin layer of eye shadow and two strokes of kohl not too well cared for, had succeeded, in the large span of time, even to take a quick manicure session, let alone when he realized that he was nervous to the point that his hands were shaking so much that I can not even hold the lime just enough to do precise work. In the absence of others, had begun to make up and down the room, tossing occasionally, dirty looks to Tom, in the vain hope that being aware of it and, finally, to wake up.
just woke up, in fact, the blond stood before her brother, all dressed up, makeup and combed properly, committed to do back and forth across the room with a fairly sustained pace: every movement you could read the excitement that every single step seemed to grow more and more with a nearly constant concern.
'Bill? "Tom called him, the voice thick with sleep, scratching his head. "How long are you awake? "
" From six. "Replied the child, too little land to lie in the world just enough to let him keep a semblance of composure.
"You could wake up. "Muttered the other, while the sense of guilt for leaving him standing for hours basking in its stock began to emerge.
"I did not want to disturb. "Bill shrugged, deciding once and for all to stop and stop torturing the floor carpet.
"Tomi. "He continued after a minute of silence. "Get dressed, let's hurry. The voice was tired, almost a whisper, and the tone bordered on the plea. The speech
died there, still asleep Tom to set up an even remotely sensible response that would serve to cheer her brother, Bill, and too impatient to stay in that room a moment longer.

It was noon, but the lights reflected against the lenses of his sunglasses had nothing to do with your time, but on the contrary, the sky of Hamburg was completely covered with clouds, which were not predict anything but rain They were, however, the persistent click of the camera flash from professional to lead all those annoying glare, trying to compensate for the lack of a clear blue sky and sunny in the background to the windows of the room, but resulting in only one in the room only to create an atmosphere even more artificial and aseptic than it already was.
The silence of the tomb of the Kaulitz twins screeched sharply with the voices of journalists: the lack of words was forced and painful, but neither had the courage to say something to another, and indeed, since they'd left the hotel room , not had hardly turned his eyes, if not by mistake. Nor had wanted to talk after crossing the threshold of the room, and David himself, watching from his perch near the guards a few feet behind them, beginning to wonder if the conference would indeed be served to allay water and if he did not, however, helped to mark the end of Tokio Hotel.
the phlegm with which Bill and Tom came to the desk placed in front of the rows of chairs occupied by the paparazzi and sat in front of the microphones was so quiet that they can be easily exchanged for resignation, but, instead, journalists and contributed only muttered heatedly to the confusion that was in the room, fearful of starting with the slew of questions from the outside, you could get the impression no problem of having to attend the last speech of two brutal murders award-criminals before their death penalty.
"I think all know why we are here. "Tom was to break the ice, displaying a calm that not even he knew he had.
"It's not my, our, going to deny what happened last night. "He continued, this time much more to engage SINCE not shake the voice. "As I know very well that the evidence appears to be irrefutable. I know that your eyes everything seems like an act of outrageous, immoral and even deserves to be punished, but I find it almost immoral that you have thought about having the right to embroider on this story, writing a bullshit after another. I understand that this is your job, and I understand that the life of a rock star we chose us, and this is what it involves. The funny part - he took care to tread in the word with emphasis, making it even sarcastic - it is ourselves that we would not remember what happened if we had found the papers in front of the eyes, yesterday morning. It is not an excuse, what I'm about to say, but it's true: we were drunk, end of the matter. So you do not need to publish article spicy enough, and I know that whatever I say, there are people among you who will write what he likes best to sell most of its newspaper. "The buzz
of journalists increased.
"You are blaming alcohol? "Peeped an interviewer. "There seems a little too much what has happened, to clear all that? "
" No, we do not like. "Said Tom piqued. "Everyone in this room gave us a bit 'too much in alcohol-aware. At that moment, the brain does not work at all. "
" How could you were drunk at this point? The bodyguards have allowed such a thing? "
" We're rock stars, not elementary school children. We still have the right to go around by yourself: You do not blame the staff, if not our own. "
" So you're saying that this is an accident? "
" Exactly. "
" And you two, there is no type of relationship that goes beyond brotherly affection? "Finally a journalist ventured particularly reckless.
No. "
" Even if it was, that there would be problem? "With the greatest surprise of all, Bill's voice echoed off the microphone so much so that she can be strong enough to be heard by audience. If Bill had been silent all the time, his eyes staring at scattered from time to time some journalist, without really paying attention to what was happening, almost convinced that in reality not all that was going on really. Every single word that came out from the mouth of Tom had been stabbed, and had said so many, of words, so many that he had stopped counting all the heartache that's causing, so much that, one after the other, the pain had become so strong as to be unsustainable and now muffled.
did not feel anything, or almost pounding heartbeat, or the chatter of journalists getting stronger, or astonished gaze David who scrutinized his face as if he had just revealed to be the reincarnation of the Antichrist or such a heresy. Tom, from under the table, the foot on the ram launched an excessively strong, and that means that she heard him.

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be praised to the sky. xD

After endless adventures ... Bah, I prepared the fourth chapter! U__U

Title: caught red-handed (fourth chapter)
Fandom: Tokio Hotel
Torque: tom / bill
Prompt: 083. And
Rating: PG-13

rush out room with a burst of speed enviable also a sprinter, Tom hurried to the elevator and we literally jumped in, pressing the keys again with the shortness of breath, and the cardiovascular system recorded the average of a thousand beats per second. He had taken an immense weight from the stomach, only heaven knew what she was afraid of screwing up. He did not want the band to be dissolved because of him, he did not want a bunch of fangirls, though hopelessly psychotic and obsessive, committed suicide because of him, he did not want Universal to end on the pavement and destroyed half his fault and, importantly, wanted his brother to suffer for his fault. Now he finally had
the concrete possibility to repair the damage done: he would invent a plausible excuse, he would have cheated the paparazzi stationed in front of the auditorium and would have walked head on to the stage. He explained everything. And the press would believe him. And everything would be back in place. And he and Bill would not have had more problems.
An unexpected wave of optimism swept over him as he left the elevator and walked, almost impatient, the corridor that led him to the hotel room. At the same time, tens of miles away, his mother had just returned home from newsstand. It did not seem happy. Not at all.

opened the door of the room, the blond would expect to be attacked by a massive dose of insults, or at least of having to cope with the outburst of his brother on what was selfish, stupid, stupid, asshole, insensitive, blah blah blah, Tomi love you, too I love you baby, and they all lived happily ever after. The last thing I would have expected and that, in fact, was the scene that was in front, was to see Bill fulminated against nonsense words on the phone, tears in her eyes, before you run it with as much force was across the room, breaking into a couple of more pieces than they really were needed for a mobile work, but then put his head under the pillow, screaming and crying like never before.
'Bill? He asked with the greatest caution, breathing suddenly reluctant to go out regularly, preventing him from raising his voice just enough to secure a hearing on the other hand, as he hurried down on the bed beside him. "What happened? It is my fault? Bill, I did not, really. "
In response, the Moor began to sob even louder, and then raise his head from under the pillow and throw dead weight to Tom, this time sinking his head into his shirt is soaking wet. Neither could tell what had remained in that position could have been spent as second hour, Bill and Tom cried to stroke his head in an attempt to calm him down.
"Mother. 'Moaned, finally, the smaller of the two other between sobs, trying to catch his breath.
"Eh? "Asked Tom uncertain, not fully convinced that he had heard right.
"Mother. "Repeated Bill, this time with a voice trembling slightly less clear. "He called his mother. "
" ... Ah. "Muttered the blonde with little conviction. And many greetings to the wave of optimism. "What did he say? "
" she missed so much and wants to invite us to dinner ... Tom, in your opinion, what the fuck you want to have said?! "Bill yelled at the edge of hysteria. "Have you seen the papers. Did you see those fucking papers! "
" I understand, Bill. I mean, what the newspapers said ? "
" He ... He asked if they were true. "Murmured the dark, his voice was drowned out by pressing so hard on the shirt of the other. "I told you ... I said yes. Snapped immediately seated, moving away from Tom but keeping your hands close to the edge of the shirt and pull it from time to time, while filming a crying profusely. "Excuse me, Tomi, I'm sorry! You know that I can not tell lies to mom! "
Tom sighed, took a deep breath and pulled back toward his brother, tight. "And then? "
" And then ... And then he started screaming. He said it was your fault, you said you're a bad brother. He said that no longer wants to see. He said that we are deficient, he said that I suck. "Bill sighed, his head rested on his shoulder. "Tomi, was the mother to say ..."
'Bill. "Whispered the major, not even stopping for a moment to pass his hand through his hair. "Listen. You'll be fine. The mother will calm down, those things do not really think: was just shocked. Calls for it, I'll explain everything, and things put away, okay? I promise. "
" The mother should not import, should love each other the same. Not what your work? "Asked the tiny voice, as he crouched in the embrace of his brother even more. "I do not want us to leave her, Tomi, I will not. "
" It will not happen, Bill. "Tom assured her.
Bill had a phobia of being alone: it was when Jorge had gone home, leaving them alone with their mother, who lived continuously in pure terror. The thought of being abandoned at any time did not give him relentlessly, until it became paranoid clung to Tom in any circumstance, even at the cost of being ridiculed by everyone when he walked through the corridors of school hand in hand with his brother, did not pass rarely more than three days away from home, unless it was absolutely necessary (where necessary was intended forced the hard way), the few times that he did , called Simone at least four times a day, almost as if at that time were afraid of being forgotten by the mother. Things, even after a decade, had not changed much: Bill, eighteen years old, continued to call many times a week, just to make sure that she asked him how he was, and with that last phone call, had collapsed the world on him.
"Do not sulk, puppy. 'S brother greater smiled and pulled back just enough to pop a kiss on the forehead. "I'll put everything in place, it's the last thing I do. "
" I can not, Tomi. "Bill shook his head weakly. "I do not just combines. The mother does not want me to speak. The fans hate me. David wants to strangling ... And now that everyone knows about us, you'll leave me. "
" Do not tell, do not think even as a joke. "Tom interrupted him. "I said I will put everything in place, and I will. We will do it. "
" Mh. "Bill muttered, lowering his head.
"Come on. I love beautiful and without puffy eyes, or else figure that I do do? "The blond smiled prendedogli his head in his hands and passing his thumbs on her cheeks to dry. "David has established a press release tomorrow. "
" But you are stupid?! "Snapped the dark pulling back and looking at him with eyes wide open. "You want to see me freak out before hundreds of journalists?! No, Tom, I can not. "
" Misery, how many times do I have to repeat again? "Tom snorted. "Leave it to me and everything will be fine. "
" Oh yeah, you're idea what it was all a misunderstanding . "Muttered Bill putting a grudge.
"Touché. Bill, do the serious person, we do not have many other alternatives. It is the only way to cool off the crowd and stay together. "
" Sorry. "Piped the child, crouching back in the arms of his brother. "Lets not fight anymore, please? "
" If you ask me with those sweet eyes, I can not say no. "Promised the blond, tight.
"Thank you, Tomi. I love you. "Whispered closing his eyes and pulling up the nose.
"Me too. You do not know what. "Tom smiled, and a couple of seconds after Bill had that ready-asleep.
In the end, as had been predicted. And the next day would be spun smoothly. The reporters would have thought of everything. And then? Maybe they'd managed to get back to normal. And if journalists have proved tougher than expected? And if it were proved useless? And ... and ... and ... there were a myriad of variations, but Tom decided scrollarsele the head and to ignore them. Would have ended up all right, because she had promised Bill.
And if you were wrong?