Broken Glass

~

Bill Trumper-Kaulitz pursed his lips, sighing deeply as he swept up the shattered remnants of what used to be champagne glasses. His husband, Tom Kaulitz, had gone on yet another one of his destructive rampages. Their kitchen was barely a kitchen anymore.

The young man knelt down to the floor, a dustpan in hand as he gathered the tiny pieces of glass from the tiled floor, wincing as he cut himself on a particularly sharp piece.

Tom had been diagnosed as Bi-Polar only four years previous. Two years after the young couple had gotten married and moved in together. Tom's mood would change drastically at any given time. No matter how carefully Bill chose his words, he always managed to anger Tom in some way, more often than he felt was true.

Tonight he had foolishly asked Tom why he'd been late getting home. The cornrowed man had glared at him for only a second before screaming at Bill, claiming the thin man had accused him of cheating. He did that often. Bill always wondered if maybe he really was cheating, and that was just his conscience talking, but pushed the thought away every time.

He loved his husband. He loved his husband more than anything in the world...but it wasn't easy living with the man. His temper was unpredictable. No one ever knew when he'd lash out.

Bill frowned, his eyes blank as he stared at the scar on his left wrist. The cause, an angry Tom with a steak knife. Not a good combination. He had many identical scars all at random points on his body. Tom wasn't always a violent man, but if anyone got him mad enough he'd pick up the nearest thing and not think twice about using it.

Shaking his head to rid himself of his thoughts, the dread-locked man threw away the glass shards. Hearing another crash, Bill sighed once again, grabbing the first aid kit off of the table and headed up the stairs.

“Tom?” he called out, opening the door to their bedroom. Tom was sitting at the foot of the bed, glaring hard at a framed photo he was holding. “Tomi?”

“What!? What the hell could you possibly want now, Bill!? Want to accuse me of cheating again!?” he screamed, his husband wincing.

“I never accused you of cheating, Tom. I just asked where you were. I thought maybe you'd gone out with Georg and Gustav. I wanted to talk. We never talk anymore.” he replied in an emotionless tone, spotting a few bleeding cuts on the man's right hand.

“We never talk cause there's nothing to talk about.” he muttered lowly.

“Okay.” Bill said, seating himself down on the bed, opening the first aid kit.

“Okay? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It just means okay. I was agreeing with you. There's nothing to talk about.” he replied, holding out his hand for Tom to take.

Tom turned to glare at his husband, shoving his injured hand out for the younger boy to mend. “It's your fault. You never fucking shut up! You're always whining about this and that! I never get a word in!”

Blinking back tears, the silent man gently pressed a wet cloth to the cuts to absorb the blood, trying desperately to come up with a reply that wouldn't further enrage his lover. “I'm sorry.” he whispered in a tiny, scared voice.

“You should be. I don't even know why I married you. You're so worthless. God, you can't even make dinner right. It's pathetic.” he continued, glaring at the photograph once again. “Why can't you go back to being this guy? The one I met in high school? The guy that was always happy and fun, not always complaining and crying himself to sleep when you hear the truth about yourself?”

Bill finally looked away from the injured hand, looking hard at the photo Tom was holding. He'd broken the glass of the frame, but the picture was still visible. Looking at it, he was able to crack a small smile.

The picture was of them. Only it was the day Tom had proposed. Bill had never felt happier. His huge grin in the picture proved that. Tom was standing behind him, hugging him close by the waist, smiling and kissing his cheek. They were happy back then. Tom's emotions were stable, and Bill was happy and in love.

His smile fell completely when he realized that was then, and this was now. He wasn't happy anymore. He wasn't living to dream life he thought he would after he married Tom. He was in his own personal hell. But he loved Tom. He would go through anything to please him. Even if it meant being miserable all the time, in exchange for a few good days with the man.

“...I'm sorry, Tomi. I...I've just been going through some stuff lately. I'll be better soon. I'll make you happy.” he promised, looking up at his husband, almost as if he was begging for praise.

“You better. Or else I'm leaving you.” Tom snapped, making Bill bow his head to hide his hurt. Bill simply nodded, tying a bandage lovingly around his hand, pressing a kiss to it before Tom yanked it away. “We have any beer?” he asked, standing to his feet as if he hadn't just threatened divorce.

“There's some wine in the cabinet.” Bill replied, immediately regretting it when Tom's cold, hard eyes bore into him. Taking a hold of his throat, Tom slammed the boy hard against the wall.

Bill's jaw fell open as he frantically tried to pry the fist from his pale throat, tears of fear streaming down his cheeks.

“If I wanted wine, I'd of asked you dip shit.” he hissed, clenching tighter.

Managing to get a little air, Bill managed to cry an, “I'm sorry.”

Tom eventually released the skinny man, Bill inhaling desperately as he grabbed his throat and fell to a heap on the floor. He looked up at Tom, his big, brown, innocent eyes filled to the brim with tears. Tom ceased to notice. He reached into his wallet, dropping two twenties onto the floor in front of his husband.

“Go get me some beer. I expect all my change.” he stated, leaving the room, and a certain broken man on the floor.

Bill whimpered, slowly picking up the money and crumbling it between his shaking fingers. His throat still ached. A strange high filling his mind as he carefully got up, examining his neck. Two identical bruises tied themselves around his neck, each different shades of red and purple.

A tear slipping down his cheek, Bill tied a scarf around his neck, wishing only that he had his old life back.

~

“Tom? Tom?” Bill peeked his head in through the door before slipping inside, sighing when he found his husband asleep on the couch, and empty wine glass sitting on the floor beside him. He set the cases of beer down onto the table, yanking off his scarf and jacket.

Picking up the glass and bottle, he set them aside before lightly draping a blanket over the sleeping man. He gently pulled off Tom's shoes and socks, along with his baggy jeans, folding them and placing them on the chair to the right. He pursed his lips as he stared at his husband.

“I love you, Tom. I promised to stay for better or for worse. And I'll wait for you to get better. Even if it takes a lifetime.” he whispered, kissing the cornrowed man's forehead.

~