Chapter Text
:::
1:45 am, somewhere on the West Coast of the US
I’ve been struggling with so much shit lately it’s a wonder I can fall asleep at night without a fifth of Jack Daniels in my gut or a handful of pills. Or both. Unfortunately, thanks to the Changling virus, I can’t get drunk, high, anything like that. The second I head that way, the virus does something to make me sober as a judge again. While it’s a good thing and it’s kept me on the straight and narrow, it’s annoying. I can’t knock myself out chemically and all of my usual coping skills I’ve learned through practicing yoga for years aren’t working. So some nights I stay up watching horrible television, reading my way through Flake’s on-tour library, playing video games until I can’t see straight or like tonight, lying on my back in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the morning to come. I’m able to catch a bit of sleep on the tour bus, enough to keep me going but once the show is done, so am I.
When Flake told us about his suspicion that the virus is still changing us, waking up new talents, all the stress I’ve been feeling finally did a number on my stomach. It’s been years since being over stressed made me so sick but yesterday’s little announcement was the final straw. I haven’t been able to eat more than dry toast and green tea with honey since then; every time I even look at something more edible, I’m as sick as a dog. If this is what pregnant women go through every day while they’re carrying a kid, I couldn't do it. I can’t imagine heaving your guts up every 10 minutes for five out of nine months.
I haven’t said anything to Lilly and I’ve managed to keep being sick all the time away from her so far. It’s not that I don’t want her to know, it’s that I know even if I lock everything I’m feeling away, she’ll still ferret it out. And not because she’s nosy, it’s just the way things are, thanks to the itsy-bitsy bit of a link I have with Richard, she'll figure it out. The same little troublesome, deep seated linkage that no matter what we tried, won’t pack up and fuck off.
I have a theory that since it’s so similar to the way her link with Richard is (and their link is nigh-unbreakable), is why it won't leave. Yeah, we’re all linked to each other but there’s something about a deep, committed romantic relationship that forges the bond so it doesn’t break easily.
Richard told me he worried that Lilly would somehow guess out that he and I used to fool around eventually and asked me if it was okay to tell her if she asked, and I agreed. We don’t have any secrets among each other anymore, right?
Here’s the problem----I still want him.
And I want her too.
Yeah, I know, your typical “fall in love with your best friend’s woman” situation with “oh, and fall in love with him too” on top of that. The Universe is laughing it's head off at me.
Why Lilly? Why can’t I find a woman on my own like her? Why do I have to go and fall head over heels for her ? I wish I could answer that question, then that way I could deal with it. But still wanting Richard on top of that? After all these years...why all of a sudden do I check out his ass every chance I get, sneak peeks of him in the shower, all of that. I’m so lost and fucked up I can’t think straight. And I don’t feel comfortable enough talking to anyone else, much less trying to tell Richard and/or Lilly what’s wrong.
I know Reesh can tell there’s something going on that I won’t tell him about. He keeps giving me these ‘looks’ and will every once in awhile I’ll feel him touch the link like he wants to talk to me privately, but I push him away. Same with Lilly.
The idea that I’d gladly take up with Richard again and not blink an eye would bother the hell out of a lot of the fans but I don’t give a shit. I’ve never gotten hung up on gender----anyone who’d be as comfortable in a dress, playing the part of a cannibal killer’s mother, that whole blonde wig and awful dress combo from the MiG tour? Nope, not this kid. Love isn’t rational. Love doesn’t tell you that wanting someone the same gender as you is wrong, immoral, illegal. Love just is.
If I can’t get any of this resolved by the end of the tour, I’m going to have to vanish for a month or more and get my head on straight. And if I don’t...god, I don’t even want to think about it.
:::
Closing out the window he’d opened in his laptop's word processor, Schneider sighed and shut his laptop down. Shoving it back into its padded carrying bag, he pushed the whole bundle into a corner of his bunk and rolled over onto his face, biting back a groan. He was exhausted, nauseated and at the very end of his endurance. He’d had a very erotic dream about Richard earlier which had woken him up with his jeans soaked in sweat and semen, his head full of memories and every inch of him aching for what had been. That was bad enough but knowing Richard was in the bunk across from him and Lilly in the very front bunk, both sound asleep was worse. He’d managed to sneak into the tour bus’ tiny shower and clean up, but he was still shaking and on edge even when he was done. He’d locked down almost all of his links with everyone so he wouldn’t bother them with his troubles and arousal, but knowing his luck, something would leak out and he’d have lots of explaining to do. With an irritated growl, Schneider crawled out of his bunk and headed for the front of the bus, hoping a cup of green tea would settle his stomach down if nothing else.
As he was dropping a couple of sugar cubes into the steaming liquid, he heard Till’s quiet voice come from near the right side windows. He was sitting in the darkness, stretched out on one of the couches, finger in the middle of whatever book he’d been reading to hold his place. “What’s up Schneider? Can’t sleep?”
Carrying his hot tea from the tiny kitchen to the seating area with the ease of someone who’s learned how to navigate on a moving bus, Schneider took his teacup over to his usual seat near the couch, making himself comfortable before he spoke. The tea was too hot to drink yet, so he set it aside and murmured, “No, I can’t. It’s one of those times when I’m too tired to go to sleep and nothing I do helps.”
“Is it your stomach?” Till asked, putting his book aside and scooting across the sofa to be closer to Schneider. “Have you talked to Lilly about this like you promised?”
Biting back irritation, Schneider shook his head gently, wincing at the resultant dizziness. “I’m okay, Till. It comes and goes. All I need to do is catch up on my sleep and I’ll be fine.”
::Bullshit. I know you Christoph Schneider. Is there anything I can do? I might be as sensitive as a barrel of bricks sometimes but I want to help if I can::
::Leave it, Till, all right? I don’t want to talk about it right now. Please, just leave it?:: Schneider pleaded, taking a wary sip of his tea. It was just cool enough to drink; he drained half the cup in one swallow, praying that it would stay down. It did, thankfully, and he finished the cup, feeling the warmth of the sweet liquid settling his stomach somewhat. ::I know you want to help and I appreciate it. This is something I have to deal with on my own::
Till stood up, stretching until his fingertips touched the ceiling of the bus, a huge yawn suddenly crossing his face. “Sorry. I tend to go into overprotective mode these days, don’t I?”
Schneider laughed at Till and gently shoved at his shoulder. “I don’t mind it. I rather like it, to be truthful. If we'd only been this mature years ago.”
“We were such idiots back then, fighting over stupid things when we had so much more to be arguing about that was more important,” Till commented, leaning on the door frame. “I look in the mirror and tell myself that when I looked this young I was arguing with Richard about what girl we were going to take home, or thinking that this was all going to be over in the blink of an eye and I’d be back to weaving baskets.”
“Yeah, but remember what I said the night we found Richard and Lilly? That I’d felt something special happening between the six of us the day we realized Rammstein wasn’t going to be a one off thing? I knew we were going to do all right. I thought for quite awhile we were going to kill each other when we were recording “Mutter” and then when we had to cancel the last of the “Ahoi Tour” when you got hurt but...I wouldn’t trade any of that,” Schneider said, standing up and carrying his empty tea cup into the kitchen where he rinsed it out and stuck it in the dish dryer. “I’m going to go back to bed, maybe the tea will be enough to settle my stomach so I can get a few hours in before we get to the next stop.”
Till stopped Schneider for a moment, holding him at arm’s length and looking him square in the eye. “I meant what I said. If you want to talk to someone, I’ll listen. Promise.”
Reaching up, Schneider gave Till’s strong shoulders a quick squeeze. “I will. G’nite Till.”
Sleep didn’t come quickly for Till, who laid awake long into the night, considering what Schneider hadn’t said. He’d sensed a rise in Schneider’s blood pressure when he’d mentioned Richard as well as a hint of his heartbeat increasing and a touch of embarrassed arousal in the “scent” of his link when Lilly’s name had come up.
Ah ha, Till thought. So that’s the way the wind blows. Hmph. Well, that could be good or bad. I’m not going to poke my nose into that, I’ll get it bitten off by one of them and whoever’s not busy will kick my balls up to my ears. Stowing that thought deeply away, Till wriggled down into the bedclothes until he was a blanket-covered lump covered from head to toe, and fell asleep seconds later.
Schneider wasn’t as lucky. He laid awake the rest of the night, dry-eyed and lost in his troubles. When the band arrived at their hotel, he was the first off the bus and the first to his room, ignoring everyone’s concerned looks and questions. Once behind a double-locked door, he dug a very, very strong sleeping pill out of a hidden pocket in his dopp kit and grabbed a glass of water from the bathroom sink. Sitting down on his bed, he glared at his reflection in the mirror that hung over the small chest of drawers across from him and snarled, “Look, virus thingie. I need some sleep or I’m going to go happily insane. Either cooperate with me or not later on, but for once, let me fall asleep and not dream anything. Please?”
Twenty minutes later, Schneider was fast asleep, curled like a kitten under layers of blankets, the air conditioning humming quietly away to provide white noise and a cool breeze. The breeze would have explained the curtains moving gently back and forth, but not the heavy, cut glass paperweight on the table nearby sliding back and forth across the table just as slowly and gently.