Abandoned Paradise

My eyes fluttered open and I struggled to see through a thick blanket of charcoal smoke engulfing the wreckage around me. Pieces of the magnificent aircraft were scattered variously, across the grey-white sand, now golden, scorched and burning.
A stinging pain tunneled from my thigh to where my foot connected with the earth as I got up slowly. My knee’s buckled. The pain worsened – Forcing me to look down at the source. My large jeans were torn along my shin, and beneath that, the flesh broken; Blood, drop-dropping like rain. Transferring my weight to my uninjured leg I struggled once more to my feet.
I stumbled through the almost black haze, searching the wreckage, for a familiar face, or any sign of life. Overturning anything I could lift, I scanned the remains for my friends. My voice grew faint as I yelled; screamed; whispered their names, choking on the intense smog. I wasn’t the only one – I could be.
Magnanimous waves swept over the shore, extinguishing any remaining flames. Exhausted, I collapsed in the sand, not far from a burning wing. Burring my feet in the grains, and placing my head in my hands, I sat – Left to ponder the disastrous possibilities. What if I was the only one? What if the others hadn’t survived the crash?
I wished I was back home, in Germany, where Gustav was, safe from harm. I wondered if he’d yet received the news. Sitting in his Oma’s living room, eating freshly made Schnitzel, and watching television as he stuffs his face. Gustav, Gustav, Gustav. Well … at least he was okay - Far from here.
A low wheezing sound coming from the piece of flaming aircraft beside me carried over to my ears. Wheezing turned to coughing. I jumped up, ignoring the blinding pain in my leg and hobbled over to the sound. Several ringed fingers peered out from beneath the wing. Oh god! I slammed my body hard against it in attempts to move the heavy metal from my baby brother. A bloodied arm came partially into view.

“Tomi?”

“Yes Bill, I’m here. I’m here. Hold on,” With one last heave I managed to unpin my twin.

“Oh Tomi. I thought you were …” Bill’s words were drowned by his sobs.

“Shhh, shhh, Bill. I know, I know. It’s okay,” I pulled him in to me and hugged him tight to my body. Despite the implications, I loved my brother more than anything. I’d be lost without him. He really was my other half – My better half.
Bill continued to weep loudly into my debris caked sweater. I hugged him closer and looked around. I winced as Bill’s leg brushed my wounded one.

“Tom? Are you okay?” he sat up, rolling off me; his eyes fell to my leg. Bill glared at the blood oozing from the long gash, soaking my white socks.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with it after we find—”

“Tom!” before I could finish my sentence, the older man of the group came running. He held a bulky bag in one hand and a furry, brown coconut in the other. My brother stood and turned searching through the haze for our recovered bassist. The fog was settling.

“Bill!” he screamed. He suffocated Bill in a back breaking hug. “Are you two alright?” Bill nodded. I just stared.
Beneath his eyes, and across his forehead, ash was dusted lightly, leaving him with somewhat of a raccoon-masked look. A few fresh scrapes decorated his throat. Kneeling next to where I sat on the warm sand, Georg stared deeply into my eyes.

“Are you okay?” I grimaced and shrugged my shoulders, pointing to my leg. “Ow! Looks like you got it worse than I did,” Georg smiled lightly. Without warning, I was forced to breathe the musky scent of burning fabric, mixed with fruit, as my friends massive arms wrapped around me. He embraced me firmly, burying his face in my hair, now rested over my shoulders; my cap – gone and my sweat band askew. I pressed my hand against his back, to show I appreciated his gesture. As we broke apart I rose up slowly, careful to keep all my weight off my disfigured limb.
“Oh … I found food from the plane…” Georg gestured towards the lumpy sack lying next to him in the sand, “… I also found some fruit,”

“Thank god! I’m starving!” claimed Bill, his torn t-shirt rolled up his flattened stomach, so he could better examine his bruised torso. Staring out at the ocean. I watched as the sun decreased lower and lower in the baby blue sky.

“We’d better make a fire. It’ll be dark soon,” I spoke calmly as I could and struggled towards the forest, blinking back tears, formed after each painful step. Fortunately, my suffering didn’t go unnoticed. Slinking an arm around my middle, Georg helped me towards a blank patch of sand, and gently he lay me down upon it.
“You stay here and look after that leg of yours,” I watched as my band-mate tore a piece of his t-shirt and wrapped it around my shin. The blood seeped through slightly. “Bill and I, will search for firewood,”

*

The flamed cackled happily in between us, filling the surrounding air with tiny embers, brightly glowing, then fading, falling back into the fire beneath. Behind me, crickets were chirping, and the tree’s shook dangerously, at war with the wind.
Bill shifted uncomfortably in the sand, shivering beneath one of my sweaters he had found draped over a tree by the shore. His thin frame, similar to mine own, didn’t provide him with much protection against the harsh weather, and being the fragile one of the band, he wouldn’t last long. He knows I can’t stand to see him suffer. Pulling the thick fabric from my upper half, I spread it evenly over my brothers shaking body. I couldn’t help but smile as his shivering dyed down and the corners of his mouth turned upwards into a smile.

“Thanks Tomi,”

I rubbed my hand along his back comfortingly and retreated back to my seat by the fire – A rotting log, torn up from the weather. Flicking a tiny inchworm from the top, I sat down cautiously, spreading my hands out over the heat.
Georg remained silent, jabbing at the burning wood with a twig. Neither one of us could believe this was really happening. Bill refused. But for the most part, all was pretty calm, despite the fact that no one new where we were. At least we were all safe. It could have been much worse.

“Do … do you ever wonder what things would be like without Tokio Hotel?” Georg spoke out for the first time since we sat down. He looked up from the glowing twig and over at me.

I stared awkwardly. “No,” I shook my head, “I don’t need to wonder what it would be like. It’d be a bore. That I know,” I answered plainly. There was no other way to put it.

“Ja. You’re right. But sometimes I wonder what it’d REALLY be like,” dropping the shriveled stick he seated himself next to me on the log. “I imagine my life would be … empty,” Empty. Empty? Yes, I suppose that would be a good word to describe it.

“Empty?” I said, “Why do you say that?”

“Because … I couldn’t have met you,” My eyes widened. Georg closed in.

“G, no, we can’t do this. Haven’t I explained to you a thousand times why we can’t do this?” I pushed a few inches away spying the bag of provisions and snatching it up from its dirty nesting place. Rummaging through it I pulled out two apples, handing one to Georg, and then 2 cans of what looked like it could have been Coke. The can was badly distorted, but not broken. Mine bore a huge jagged scratch on one side, right over what looked like ‘ oca ol ‘ – The ‘C’s’, and an ‘a’ on ‘cola’ were scratched and silver from where the paint had worn off the can. Georg tossed his back in the open sack, leaving his apple on his lap.

“We’ll share. We need to be carefully with how much we use,” I nodded, biting into my apple. Georg opened the can. I examined the sour fruit in my hands. The edges, where my teeth had left an impression, it had already begun to turn brown. In the middle was a tiny hole. Turning the apple in my hand I discovered that it tunneled all the way out the other side. Ew. I tossed it in the fire and spate thrice on the ground.
Georg took a sip from the demented can and handed it to me. “Here,” I took it thankfully, swallowing a generous amount before handing it back. “Why?” Georg spoke quietly.

“Excuse me?” I was aware he’d spoken, but being as his voice was barely above a whisper, I couldn’t make it out.

“Why not?” He put great emphasis on these two words, enunciating clearer this time. I watched as he set down the drink and grazed the top of my hand with the tips of his fingers. I knew immediately what it was he wanted to talk about. A conversation I’d avoid in any means necessary.
“It’s something we’re going to have to talk about. Why not now,” the bassists’ warm fingers enclosed mine. “I know you have feelings for me,”

“You’re right. I do. But - but as a sibling. As a brother, Georg, I shouldn’t have let it get as far as it did back then. Now, I’m doing my best to think of you ask just another one of the family. Nothing more could ever happen between us,” Since Georg’s drunken confession many months previous, the two boys were becoming closer than ever. Sure they were inseparable before; a dynamic duo; the disastrous two; but now … they hardly spoke a word.

**

Georg pulled back hesitantly, wiping the guitarists’ saliva from his lips. His hand on Tom’s cheek, he continued caressing the skin with his thumb gently. Tom smiled and stood up from where they were lain in a heap on the floor, snatching a hat from his bunk.

“We’re coming, Bill. Holy shit,” he yelled through the closed bunkroom door. Adjusting the ‘NY’ cap atop his head, Tom waited for Georg. When finally he stood ready beside the elder twin, the pair did one last final run down before leaving.
Tom loosened his grip on the doorknob and pointed out a flush pink mark, shining with saliva on Georg’s collarbone, clearly visible. The man blushed and yanked his sweater up over the bruised skin.

“Thanks,”

“Don’t mention it,” With one last peck on the lips, the door was flung open and Bill’s scream could be heard clearly throughout the bus.

**

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do it anymore. What if we’re caught?” I freaked.

“So what!”

“What if it effects the band?” I continued to fish for excuses. The truth was that I was scared.

“What, you mean, our relationship with Gustav and your brother? Or the fans?”

“Both,” I answered, staring down at my wounded leg, the blood seemed to’ve stopped flowing.

“What the fans think is very important with our success, I know what you mean, but I’m sure they’ll understand true fans,” Georg passed his neglected apple to Tom, who stowed it back in the sack, tying it up tightly. “As for the guys… Well, we don’t have to tell them at first. Not until you’re ready. If and when they find out, I’m sure they’ll understand. Sure they might be weirded out for the first little while, but it’ll pass,”
I smiled brightly. Georg put an arm around my shoulders and buried his head in my dreads. “Willing to give it a shot, Tom?” he chuckled loudly. It was one thing when Bill called me that, but coming from Georg … it was just … weird.

“Alright,”

*

“Apples and Oranges. Oranges and Apples. They’re both so good. I don’t think I’d ever be able to choose between them,” Bill sat cross-legged in the sand with the bag of food in his lap. I rolled my eyes and rolled over onto my stomach.

“Then grab both and hand me the fucking bag!!” I yelled, flicking a clump of hardened sand at my brother. It hit him direct on the knee and crumbled.

“Oooh… they should make orange flavored apple juice!!” Bill tossed the bag over to me.

“Annnddd we’ve lost him. I swear you weren’t worn with a dysfunctional brain so they replaced it with a peanut,” Bill frowned.

“That would explain so much,” Georg’s shadow loomed over me. He held a piece of coconut in his hand, nibbling on the white fleshy interior. Bill stood up, clutching the fruit in both hands and turned to leave. “Bill, we’re only kidding. Your brain’s much bigger than that,” Georg yelled out after the frustrated singer.

“Yea, a walnut maybe,” I joked. I flipped back so I was facing the sky. It was bright, and it seemed as though the sky was glowing. The water splashed up onto the shore, soaking into my bare feet. My bloody socks lay abandoned by the fire, my shoes along with them.
Georg sat down next to me and looked out towards the sea, sifting the sand through his fingers. He did this for a moment or two before clapping his hands together and brushing the grains to the ground. Lifting up my hand, splayed out in the dust he entwined his fingers with mine.

“Hey! Come with me. I got to show you something”


*

“How far is this place? I’m getting eaten alive back here. Georg!! Slow the fuck down,” I called out to my band-mate who was many steps ahead of where I was struggling.

“Quit wearing those baggy pants! You’d be able to do this much easier without them,” answered Georg, stopping and leaning up against a mossy tree.

“It’s my leg, you dip shit!” the fresh bandage, made from a German flag (torn off the plane), began to tear where the blood had weakened the fabric. Georg tore another scrap from his t-shirts and tied it tightly over the reddened material.

“It’s not much further. Just past these tree’s… I think …” Georg sounded less than re-assuring.

“You think? You think!? I swear to go, if you’ve dragged me all the way out there and’ve forgotten where the fuck it is, I’m going to kill you!”

“Ya, ya, I know, I know,” Georg scooped me up effortlessly and continued through the bush.

“I have legs G!” I ducked down to avoid hitting my head off a low tree branch.

“But you’ve torn the shit out of one,”

“I can manage on my own. I do have two of them, if you haven’t noticed,”

“Jeez Tom! No one’s going to see you. Let someone else help you for a chance. You may still look like a god, but you can at least stop acting like one for a few hours,” Georg stopped suddenly and set me back down on my feet.
A large tree stood before me. Moss lined the tops of all the branches, generating the look of first snowfall in a wooded forest. And the leaves sparkled with droplets of water rolling over the surface.

“Oh, … my god … its, a tree!” I attempted to sound enthused, as I tottered on one leg.

“You dragged me all the way out here, for … a tree?” Georg laughed lightly and shook his head. Pushing the sheet of leaves from my view. “Holy shit!”