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covered in steel

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I strummed at my guitar absently throughout the whole practice whilst the other members of our band completely rocked out. Nobody picked up on it so I managed to sail my way through the practice undected. I just wasn't feeling that bothered today. It was a Sunday night and all I really wanted to do was fuck to my bed and fall asleep but we still had to go and do a quick interview to sum up our session at the studio today.

I was glad we had finished playing. Fucking finally. All I had to do was sit there in the interviews whilst Bill excitedly dominated the answering of the questions. I suppose the interview will go quickly enough.

"Right. I think we're done here guys. You all did pretty great! As usual." Bill praised us.
"You too, Bill." Georg grinned.
Next Gustav smiled at Bill from behind his kit. "As always, Bill. Your voice was ace."

I couldn't agree more. They always did a great job. We did. Making music. Bill responded to Gustav with his airy wave of dismissal. "You're too sweet, aw. See you guys tomorrow!" Bill waved to the guys. They usually went back to the hotel before us since we were the frontmen and had to take care of anything that needed finishing up before close time. They soon left with their things, only Bill and I remaining.

"See?" Bill smiled at me as he zipped his mic away in its bag and went to stash it beneath his table. "Didn't take too long. Like I said."

"Yeah." I crossed my arms, leaning back tiredly and cautioning to rub a hand over my aching eyes. I just wanted my fucking bed.

"Come here." Bill sat on the floor and looked expectantly up at me. I went to him and sat in front of him. His long arms soon pulled me into an embrace and soft hands caressed my back. "Know you're tired, baby."

I sagged on him with my face buried in his chest and my fingers grabbing his t-shirt. I nod on him. "Mhh."
Bill's delicate fingers tousled my braids and scooped them up in a soft grip at the nape of my neck where he combed his fingers through them like they were water. He didn't say more to me and only kissed my face calmly whilst we waited.

The door to the recording room opened suddenly before Bill could place his next kiss to my forehead. I turned my head to see the face of one of the producers holding a piece of paper out and reading from it. "Hi guys. It says here you should come to the interview now because there's going to be a guest afterwards to speak to you. I don't know what about but it looks promising."

Bill nodded. "Thank you! Okay, Tom, let's go."

I stood up straight from Bill's hold reluctantly. So now there was another obstacle stopping me from going to bed? Couldn't this stupid fucktard of a guest wait until tomorrow.

"Come on, Tom." Bill held my elbow with a slim hand and walked with me out of the room. "Are you all right?" He asked me in a low voice when we reached the corridor.
"I'm tired, Bill. I just wanna sleep." I responded shortly, rubbing a hand over my face as if to push away the looming fatigue.
"I know, I know, baby... We're nearly done. Just got to do an interview and meet a guest. It's only a short interview, I'm sure because it's about how we made Ready, Set, Go." Bill assured me. But no it didn't stop me from being annoyed at having to waste more hours that could be used for my damn sleep.

"Fine... I'll do it." I sighed and dragged my hands away from my eyes so I'd stop rubbing them and exacerbating my tiredness.

"Good..." Bill patted my arm and walked off a little ahead of me. The single door up ahead was slightly ajar and I could hear somebody testing mics in there. Bill stopped before the door, followed by me.

"This is where the interview is? In the instrument cupboard?" Bill asked incredulously.

"Looks like it." I growled in deep annoyance.

The door swung open the next second and my twin and I were greeted by the faces of an interviewer and... Bushido. In the damn corner but taking up a hell load of room.

I rolled my eyes. Bill however, covered his mouth in shock. "Bushido..?" He blurted out and blinked in surprise.

Bushido nodded to us. "Tokio Hotel twins." He acknowledged.

I eyed him, yes it was a bit of a surprise that he was here but we had met him before at a show. Big deal.

"What are you doing here?" Bill went on.
"I'm the guest. After you're done with your interview I wanted to talk to you guys." Chirped Bushido.
The interviewer smiled from inside the cupboard in her seat. "And now we'll begin. Come in, guys."

"Can't he get out?" I thrust a finger towards Bushido who was taking up so much fucking room already.

"No. I want to be in the interview." He turned his steely eyes on me.

"Well. It's about our album." I replied.

Bill ran a hand through his hair, frustrated before he took my wrist, gripping to pull me with him into the cupboard. "It's not that small, Tom. You just can't see the whole thing when you're outside."

"Okay but his dirty hands didn't make our fucking album so why is he in here?" I questioned. Bushido just laughed.

"Actually, missy, I'm in charge of some of the German release of your album." The rapper piped up with dirty 'tude, a smirk twisting his already ugly features. My jaw set as I stared him down, my nostrils flaring. How dare this guy call me 'missy'. I was seconds from booting out his teeth with my fist.

"Tom!" Bill hissed at me from behind my shoulder. "Quit making a scene!"
I ignored him and took a step to Bushido.

"Okay guys, wrap it up, please," the interviewer spoke for the first time, causing everyone to turn and face her. "We want to get this interview finished before it gets any later... So, take your seats."

I scowled and shoved back past Bill to sit in the corner seat. The interviewer looked annoyed too at the prospect of conducting this interview. I definitely didn't blame her because I was the most pissed of all at having to stick this interview out. It may be quick but a certain stupid ass presence in here made me feel annoyed.

"Okay then... Bushido," the interviewer started. "What is it like editing the German lyrics for Tokio Hotel?"

What... He edits Bill's German? What cheek!

"It's fun. There's usually a lot of spelling errors."

That's it! I stood up and leaned over him, snarling. Bill grabbed my wrist but I shook him off. "You. Shut the fuck up about my brother's German! At least he actually went to fucking school, you stupid pussy!"

Bushido stood up as well, his face right in mine and his beer breath washing unpleasantly over my skin. "Listen, punk. It's my job to edit his stupid ass spelling. Maybe he forgot to learn that in his pansy faggot school."

"You can't even spell yourself! You probs even use a beta for uploading photos on your stupid, worthless twitter. Do you think anybody cared when you flew your fat hairy ass to the Maldives? I was fucking rejoicing!"

Bushido growled and leaned so close our noses touched. "You're a piece of shit, why I could kill you with a mere dick slap, you whore -"

"The pair of you, sit down!" The interviewer cried over Bill's shrieking. Part of me smirked wondering if she was still recording. No it just spurred me on. I ignored Bill's yelling protests and the next thing I knew I was punching Bushido around the face, my fist smacked into his eye with a harsh thwack painting the area immediately red. He cried out roughly. His fist got me square in the jaw next, then undercut me in the stomach. I gasped audibly in pain and drew back my leg for momentum for what I was gonna do next. I raised my knee sharply up to bash his balls. Once. Twice. Fucking hard.
Bill's arms were uselessly trying to pry me away from behind as I kicked Bushido's nuts heavily and rammed my elbow into his abdomen. He didn't get a chance to hit me again as I upercut him then slammed my fist up into his neck, crashing his jaws together hard enough to shatter teeth. Gagging and clutching his throat, he stumbled back out of the cupboard only to land in the arms of two waiting security guards who started dragging him away. I sneered at him, turning my nose up, "Yeah, that's right, you piece of shit! Get dragged away like a stupid bitch!" I shouted wildly all up on the toes of my shoes until he was around the corner. My hands were tugging in my braids.

"Tom, Tom.. Stop!" Bill yelped, his grip on my arm slipping as his voice grew panicked when more security guards approached from down the corridor.
I didn't turn to look at him and quickly dashed out of the cupboard, running towards the other exit. The security guards started running for me as well. Panicked, I realised I couldn't run away from them for contract reasons and when I got to the exit door I just stopped and waited staring at the ground panting wildly. The guards surrounded me, one of them stepped closer bearing handcuffs.

"Kid," he started, raising the cuffs. "you might be in that band but your actions tonight breached our rules. We're security guards for this studio, not Tokio Hotel."

I struggled to regain my calm breathing as he spoke. I was still riled up. "I... I-I know, h-he... just pissed me off.." I huffed. "I didn't m-mean to... to... punch him."

The security guard sighed and shook his head. "We've already called the cops, kid."
He snapped the cuffs around my wrists before I could protest.

"What? No! Wait, you can't arrest me, you're not even a cop!" I begged, striding forwards to him. His thick hand encircled the chain of my cuffs and shook them hard.
"I can. We have powers granted from the nearby station."

"That's a lie! Please just stop this and let me the fuck go! I could get you into trouble..-"

The guard sighed and grabbed my shoulders, pushing me down even before he instructed, "Get on the ground, kid."

"No!" I yelled even when he managed to slam me down to the ground and drop to dig his knee into my back to hold me there. I couldn't speak. Much less breathe with his weight crushing in between my shoulder-blades. I thrashed about and raised my restraints up to hit him in the face but he must have jerked back because all I got was air. His big hand grabbed the cuff chain again and forced my hands down to the ground. I cried out as my wrists grazed on the concrete and dropped my head defeatedly to the floor. The hard concrete jarring my brain.

Soon I could hear the sirens coming and I repressed a sob, shutting my eyes tight when moments later the exit door banged open and heavy boots aporoached. Lights flashed all around. The cold air from outside wasn't necessary to make me curl up to protect myself as soon as the heavy security got up and his bearing weight wasn't on me any longer. I was scared. I still couldn't breathe. I didn't dare raise my head but the cops were now shouting orders at me.

"On your feet, now!"

"On your feet, sir!"

"Off the ground!"

I gasped hard when somebody kicked me in the side. "Ahh!"

"One more time, on your feet, now!" But they barely gave me any time to move before strong, rough hands grabbed me under the armpits and by the hair and hauled me up to my feet. I cried out as my scalp throbbed. Someone shoved me forwards and I stumbled to.
"Move. Do it now!"

I didn't look up to see who had ordered me and I just walked as the cop who had my arm now dragged me to the vehicle parked up. I practically tripped as I got to the step by the door. The cop yanked my arm as I nearly went down and he hauled me upright. I panted desperately, feeling my guts lurch with that particular moment. No... Please don't... I begged my body but the hot rushing in my stomach shot up in my windpipe and my mouth opened automatically, letting out a gush of disgusting sick. My whole body racked in wild spasms, repeatedly as more hot, thick throw up launched from my stomach, I staggered and fell, landing face first in my own disgusting crap. The stinking remains of food lingered on almost every inch of the skin on my neck and face, now sickly warm and clinging in my sweat. Somebody wrenched my shoulder to make me stand and somebody else grabbed my wrists. Pathetically, I sagged to the ground even when they pulled me, my body weak from throwing up my guts.

"Up!" A cop barked, thumping me on the back. They didn't care. I cried out harshly as the last bits of sick dribbled from my lips and my trembling body was finally hauled up to standing position by the cop to the left. He was grabbing both of my arms now and my measly legs struggled to comply as we headed for the car. My whole body was quaking desperately and I was flushed and sweating a fucking river. My insides were burning and my battered skin was prickling with cold. It felt like I had a fever. But they didn't care. They just pushed my weakening body forward.

With my teeth ferociously gnawing at my lip, I turned around, expecting to see Bill coming to save me from this but nobody was at the door.
Somebody smacked my head. "Get in the car!"
I yelped and lowered my pounding head, planting a foot inside the vehicle before I was rudely shoved in like a piece of filthy shit. The door slammed on my thigh and I moaned helplessly, shifting further inside and closing my eyes tight to trap the tears. I hung my aching, throbbing head when they started driving off.
Not a word was said to me for the whole journey, and I didn't say anything either. Just crumbled into my own pain and darkness and wondering how I could deserve this.