These Halls Are Never Empty

Bill stood on his hands, counting how many seconds he'd been that way.

1579, 1580, 1581…

Though he supposed that many would have fainted by this time, he had been tilting his head both forwards and backwards, trying to redirect a little of the blood flow. He supposed he'd need to stop soon, and start on the rest of his newly regained regime.

When Bill was twelve or thirteen, he'd found a book left behind by a former patient about something called yoga. He carefully studied the book, and little by little, he'd become a near contortionist. He'd also gained muscle in the process, and found that he could balance parallel to his bed on his hands and hold it. When he was fourteen, he'd stayed that way for half an hour. He couldn't do it anymore, which he'd found after a sharp pain in his elbow and a hard fall to the floor, but he figured that he could do it again soon enough.

He took in a deep breath and gracefully turned upright, keeping absolutely still as the blood flooded from his skull. He felt lightheaded, but it passed shortly. He folded himself into a cross-legged position, and, in a grand gesture, took in a long, slow, deep breath as he extended his arms and brought them above his head like in prayer. He exhaled as he brought them down in front of his body. He turned his hands over and lay them gently on folded knees, his hands resting naturally.

Gently, closing his eyes, he began breathing very steadily. The book didn't call for meditation, but he figured that he might as well tidy his mind while he had the chance. Slowly, he inhaled and exhaled, focusing on his breathing and tidying things up in his head.

By the ten-minute mark, he was so deeply focused that he didn't even notice his door open and close and someone sit on his bed, highly amused.

Tom didn't have any idea that Bill meditated, but he did think it was funny how the act was so not peaceful. It amazed him that Bill still had that worry line between furrowed eyebrows. That boy was going to have wrinkles by the time he was 20.

After about two minutes, Tom felt his teenage attention span slip. Besides, his ass was getting numb, so he scooting back amongst Bill's pillows and kicked his feet up, settling down nicely. He still had a pretty good view of Bill.

Bill's thoughts were nearly tidy in what he called his internal filing system. He simply had one thing left to file: Tom.

He felt a little happier when with Tom. There was something about him that made Bill's insides jump happily, like he'd swallowed crickets. It was something indescribable. It took him a very long time to build relationships, but Tom just made one appear. He sort of liked it.

Tom almost fell asleep from lack of interest when he saw something happen. Slowly, Bill's eyebrows unfurled and raised slightly. Tom smiled. Bill finally looked peaceful.

After a few more minutes, Bill finally clasped his hands together and then pulled them apart vertically, making it look like he was straightening something out in front of his body. He stood up, with eyes still closed, and stretched himself properly. Balancing gently on one foot, he brought the other up behind his back. He grabbed his ankle from above and pulled it up more. He created a bit of a circle with his body.

Tom blinked a few times, stunned by how ethereal Bill looked. He then smirked.

"You know, more people are opting to do yoga naked now."

Bill jolted and fell flat on his ass. How Tom could always do that to him, he'd never know.

Tom smiled. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to freak you out."

Bill sat up and waved his hand. No big deal.

"Cool. Besides, you needed to know the naked thing."

Bill hopped up and gave Tom a confused look.

"Because Cosmo said so."

Bill's expression did not change.

"Cosmo - Cosmopolitan. The magazine for girls. …If that's a blow to my masculinity, I say fuck it. I know what the enemy is saying."

Bill had absolutely no idea who they enemy was or why it was important to know what they said but he understood Cosmopolitan. His expression was that of happiness without a smile and he gently patted his chest hurriedly.

"You read them too!?"

Bill nodded, then pointed at his nightstand. Leila had dropped by the evening before and given him several of her old copies, wishing she could give him better reading material. He had gratefully accepted them and read through the eight copies that she had given him.

Tom opened the drawer in the nightstand and saw the copies. They looked fairly recent, but they had a woman's name on the subscription.

"Your girlfriend give you these?"

Bill's eyes widened and he blushed a hundred shades of red. Leila was not his girlfriend!

"Just kidding, dude," Tom chuckled. "Well, I came here to talk, so talk I will. You can still do your yoga if you want."

Bill nodded, nervously toying with the hem of his faded blue t-shirt. With a sudden burst of confidence, he pulled it up over his head, leaving himself half-exposed to Tom.

Tom smiled. "See? Freer already."

~+~

"It's got a regular wood top, it's not colored or anything, and it's a Fender guitar. I've been trying to bribe my stepdad to get me an electric for my good behavior, a Les Paul, that would be sweet, but he won't. Or he says he won't. My birthday is coming up, so who knows? I wouldn't say I play great, but it's not noise either. And it's done me well in the girlfriend department, because my voice isn't completely for shit either. I've gotten into many a girls' pants that way."

Tom's mindless chatter about nothing and everything was warming to Bill. Never had anyone talked so enthusiastically to Bill for absolutely no reason, so this was a nice change. Bill bent at an odd angle to the left, his eyes still on Tom.

"Girls can be dumb sometimes, I swear. I mean, I'm not some sexist or anything, a lot of girls are smarter than me, but some girls I've met are just plain, straight brainless."

Bill gave Tom a quizzical look.

"I once had a girl ask me how to spell blue. Then there are the girls who are entirely slutty stupid. They have no discretion at all, and that can be a major turn-off. Have you ever seen a girl like that? They usually are really curvy, they have more face makeup than a drugstore, their hair is fake colored and fried, and they have that annoying, lilting voice."

Bill blinked. Lilting voice? He didn't understand.

Tom twisted a dread around his finger and started staring into space. "You know how, like, you get, like, tired at night? Like, you know, why? Like… yeah." He widened his eyes like he had an idea. "Oh my god, and they are always chewing gum. Always. Just chomping away at it like a cow chewing cud."

Bill was amused greatly by Tom's dumb girl voice. He'd made the perfect body language to go along with it, too.

"It just gets old. I'd rather have a girl with a good head on her shoulders. A smart girl to lead me right when I'm being a dumbass."

Bill straightened up and made like he was cradling a baby, then pointed at Tom. He couldn't help himself, he was curious.

"Do I have any kids? Hell no, I'm not eighteen yet!"

Bill shook his head and pointed more forcefully at Tom.

"Oh! Oh, do you want to know about my family?"

Bill nodded. He needed to know that there was something out there better than what he knew.

"Well, I'm the only child, so I guess I'm a bit spoiled. My mom tried not to spoil me, but I was the first boy grandchild on her side. I got doted on. My parents got divorced when I was little; that was hard. They used to fight like rabid cats and dogs, but I'm pretty positive it was only words, or else my mom would have ended it sooner. I still see my dad from time to time, birthdays and other things. I think he just wasn't the father type, but he's a nice enough guy.

Bill nodded. He understood.

"My mom is absolutely amazing. When I got into the shit I was getting into, she never turned me out on the streets. She always believed that I'd get over it, and I am getting over it. She's absolutely gorgeous, she is, and she makes the best meatballs I have ever tasted. You'd think you'd have died and gone to heaven when you taste them. I love her to death. I can't imagine what I would do without her."

Bill tried to picture Tom's mother. So far, his image of her had Tom's eyes and mouth.

"And my stepdad, oh, he's great. Plays music, encouraged me to play guitar, he's the greatest influence ever. And he's never thought of me as simply his stepson. I'm almost like his real son, and he treats me like it."

Bill nodded again. He got down on his knees and grabbed his ankles from behind, bending backwards as far as his tendons and spine would let him. So, his head was nearly touching his heels. Tom gawked at him.

"Doesn't that hurt?! How in the hell do you bend that way?"

Bill shook his head and curled himself a little farther down. His thigh muscles were screaming at him to knock it off, but he couldn't help showing off a little bit. He enjoyed showing off for anybody, and he rarely got the chance.

Tom sighed. "You're like a Stretch Armstrong. It's not human. I've got it!"

Bill jerked up and looked at Tom. He was all but jumping with excitement.

"Why you're here, I got it! You're an alien from a far-off planet. You're able to bend your body into any shape you want, but you can't speak any human language. You have a translator in your head so you know what I'm saying, and they're keeping you here for study!"

Bill slapped a hand to his forehead and dragged it down his face in exasperation. Tom was such an idiot, but a lovable idiot.

"Okay, you're not an alien. Good."

Bill nodded in the affirmative. He was 100 percent human.

"So what about you? What's your family like?"

Bill froze in the middle of a stretch. He rapidly shook his head, eyes wide.

Tom made a confused face. "Why not? Your family can't be as crazy as mine."

Bill shook his head again.

"Why, are your parents like uber-religious or something? Come on, tell me!"

Bill stamped his foot, clenched his fists, and leaned his body towards Tom. He would not tell Tom about his family.

Tom held his hands up and leaned back. "Okay, okay, you don't need to tell me."

Bill sighed. He'd dodged the bullet for now but he doubted he could do it again.

Tom took in a deep breath. "Bill, how did you really get those bruises?"

Bill looked up and felt his stomach clench. Oh no.

"Don't give me that look, I'm not going to freak out."

Bill shook his head and backed against the wall.

Tom rolled his eyes and leaned against the pillows. "The scared tactic doesn't work with me. I know better. Now tell me, how did you get them?"

Bill bit his lip and hung his head. He breathed in deeply through his nose, lifted his head up, and raised his fists in front of his face like he was fighting.

Tom's eyes widened. "You? You're the one who hit that other guy?"

Bill nodded. Here it was, the moment where Tom declared him unstable and walked out of his life. The only real human contact he'd thoroughly enjoyed, gone forever.

To his immense surprise, Tom started laughing. Laughing? Was he taking drugs? Did he steal some poor kid's Ritalin?!

"You actually hit him! Oh my god, that's priceless. I heard him bitching about it yesterday to some other guy, and he was pissed. Said you left a mark. Where'd you hit him? The family jewels?"

Bill shuffled over to Tom and pressed his fist gently to Tom's cheek, chin, and nose. Tom smiled.

"Well, having been in a few fights myself, I have to say that I'm proud that you pissed him off enough with just a few punches. What was the fight about?"

Bill shuffled his feet and made the most obscene gesture he had ever made to explain. He could literally feel himself blush as he made a circle with his fist and then put his index finger through the hole. He felt like his skin was on fire.

Tom stared. "He wanted sex?"

Bill shook his head and placed a hand over his heart.

"Something about sex… and your heart… oh! Sexuality?"

Bill nodded. He was glad Tom was perceptive. It made communication through body language that much easier.

"So you hit him?"

Bill made a little circling gesture with his hand.

"There's more to it? Well, come on, tell me!"

Bill sighed and grabbed his pad of paper and charcoal stick and scribbled out why. He couldn't act it all out. He handed it to Tom when he was finished. Tom was shocked that Bill had scribbled out a paragraph in so short of time.

That man, Jack, saw me when I hid you in my bathroom, and he said I was a faggot and I kept you in there as a sex toy. He was thinking of all these horrible situations in which I could have lost my voice, all of them about oral sex in some way, and he brought up my reasons for being a patient here. No matter what happened, it's an unwritten law that we do not speak of what happened to get us here. And he broke the rules. I couldn't hold back.

Tom read it over, then looked at Bill. "Dude, you had every right. I kind of want to go hit him now, he sounds like a major asshole."

Bill nodded. Jack was exactly that.

"But don't fight anymore, okay? Take it from someone who knows, it doesn't solve anything."

Bill nodded. No more fighting, ever. He would have done that without Tom's advice.

"Good." Tom looked at the sketchpad in his hands and smiled. "Can I see more drawings?"

~+~

"So your time here is almost up. Another hour and your community service time will have been fulfilled. I must say, Mr. Kaulitz, that it was a pleasure to have you here."

Tom nodded at the hospital director and smiled. He enjoyed hearing praise.

"So, do you have any plans of what you are going to do after you're done here?"

Tom wrung his hands. "Well, sir, that's why I came in here. That's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?" The director smiled. "And what did you have in mind?"

"Well, I was just thinking… my record will speak against me no matter what I do to impress job interviewers, and since everyone hear on the staff trusts me, I was… well, could I stay?"

"Stay? Like be on our payroll and work here regularly?"

Tom shook his head. "I don't need to get paid, I just… I like it here. Plus it gives me an excuse to my mom so I don't have to do housework. I clean here all day, I don't want to do it at home."

The director smiled and chuckled. "Of course, that's a wonderful excuse."

"So… can I stay?"

The director tapped his fingers on his desk and stared at a spot on the wall. Tom's insides were jumping. What if he said no? Tom didn't have enough time with Bill yet, and he didn't believe that the hours they had for visiting applied to those with psychiatric problems. Bill was an enigma. He had to figure him out, and he'd never do it if he couldn't come back.

The doctor sighed. Tom's heart ripped. Not only would he be out of a job, but also he would never figure Bill out.

"I can't, can I?"

The doctor raised an eyebrow at Tom. "On the contrary, Mr. Kaulitz, I would be very happy if you stayed. I'm just trying to figure out when I'm going to need to let you go for school."

Tom's face lit up.

~+~

"Bill, Bill, Bill, guess what, guess what!"

Bill looked up from his sketchbook and looked quizzically at Tom, who had burst into his room with such fervor that Bill was surprised that the door didn't fly off the hinges.

"You're kind of stalk me, right?"

Bill's jaw dropped opened in offense. He did not stalk Tom!

He merely… watched his every move.

"Oh don't look like that, you stalk me. But it's good, I'm cool with it, it's like flattery."

Bill rolled his eyes. He then looked back at Tom with a raised eyebrow.

"So, you know that my community service will be completely filled in," he looked at his watch. "Ten minutes."

Bill grimaced and nodded. He didn't like the idea that Tom was leaving the hospital. He hadn't figured out everything about him yet, hadn't yet drunk in all the knowledge he could get from Tom. He was nowhere near satisfied with the short amount of time they'd spent together.

"Well guess what I get to do tomorrow."

Bill pursed his lips in thought, then mimicked dancing in celebration. Tom let out a laugh.

"No, I think it will be something more along the lines of this." Tom mimed pushing a mop. Bill's eyes went wide. He opened and closed his mouth several times, wishing he could speak.

Tom read his body language easily and smiled widely. "I'm staying! The director was even adamant about paying me, I have a solid job now! And the best part?"

Bill's heart thudded. What was the best part? Please don't let it be about a cute nurse.

"I get to spend even more time with you!"

Bill's eyes went about as wide as they could go without his eyelids ripping. Tom… Tom thought that was the best part?

His insides about danced the conga.

"Excited, I see. And I have to say, if you weren't so freaking confusing, I wouldn't give this place the time of day when my time is up. There's no point, really. I just… I want to figure you out. So bad, I want to know what makes you tick."

Bill couldn't take it anymore. The next thing he did shocked Tom so bad that he felt like he was going to fall over. Bill had never been a physical contact person with him, just a few light brushes on his hand or maybe a tap to get his attention. Tom had come to accept this and understood that Bill didn't touch or want to be touched.

So he could do no more than stand there, shocked, as Bill jumped up and threw his arms around Tom's neck, hugging him as tightly as he could.