Were the World Mine

Were the World Mine

Love is patient...love is kind...love is everlasting...


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Till's Point of View

    Richard Kruspe...I whisper his name against the back of my hand as I lean forward into the tiles of the shower wall, letting the hot water move across my back. The steam is thick in here, but I don't mind. It's a great way to unwind after our shows, just a few moments of peace. I say his name again, smiling to myself. He has done it again...left me wanting more then I dare ask of him. All night he had been working me up, getting my blood pumping with the quick glances across stage, the light touches that no one ever notices because he is just that damn good at what he does...I turn to face the shower water, and it pounds against my chest, like drumming fingers. I shiver, smiling still to myself. I know I can go see him. There is no way he is asleep yet...concerts always leave us wide awake, no matter how tired we end up being. I wonder if maybe he is thinking about me right now...if he has that cigarette between his lips, sitting out on the edge of the balcony. I run a hand over my belly, biting my lip to keep from moaning at the thought. I can see him clearly in my minds eye, all tight tawny strength and catlike grace. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life...and he is mine...
 
  I laugh, leaning forward to turn the handle of the shower and get out, the air beyond the stall itself if cold. I shiver despite, and stand to face the mirror. It's not as foggy as I thought it would be. I can see myself fully in my reflection. I take a towel from the counter next to it and wrap it around my waist, running a hand over my jaw. It's rough with shadow, so I pick up the razor and shaving cream. In a few moments I am gently running the blade over my face. A knock comes at the door and I pause for just a moment, "Who is it?" There is silence for a second and then, "It's me...Reesh." Heart skipping a beat I reach out and open the door with a quick swing. There standing before me is my lover, he's dressed in nothing but a pair of thin black sleeping pants. They are low on his hips, tied off in the front in a lazy bow. I force back a hiss of desire as he looks down at his bare feet for a moment, "Sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you have any hair gel."
 
Despite myself I laugh, "Did you forget yours at the last hotel?" He looks up with those beautiful blue-green eyes, "Yeah..." he smiles and sort of snorts a laugh,"I left it in the bathroom we shared..."  He reaches up and touches my still creamed face and takes some away with his fingertips. He looks at it for a moment, "So...gel?" he steps into the bathroom and I realize just how small it really is. He isn't a big guy, but I am...
 
"Yeah. It's in the bag next to the toilet." I turn back to the mirror and finish shaving my face, "Use as much as you like." I hear him mumble something to himself and he gets the bottle. Leaning in next to me I can smell his cologne and I shiver, he slicks his hands into his black hair, standing it on end. I never understood why he has to have it perfect, even before he goes to bed. He likes to look flawless all the time...be damned if sex hair changed that. I look at him before I rinse my face. When I rise back up, he's holding a towel out to me. I nod at him and take it, drying my face. He hooks his fingers in the front of the towel around my waist. I don't jerk or move from him, I stay really still as it falls away. Richard likes his games...and I really don't mind playing. "You know I do like it when you have a beard." he's going to his knees and I look down at him, drying my hands before setting his gift down, "I bet you do..." he's kissing at my stomach, tongue flicking back and forth over my scar there. I lean my head back, looking once again at my reflection. The way my head is tilted, with the light coming down on it is showing way to much grey. I twist my upper body to lean closer to the mirror. Richard takes me into his mouth and I jerk this time, "Reesh!" he doesn't stop, just like always. Forgetting my hair I return my attention to him, my hands going down into his still sticky gel. He rocks his whole body back and forth, setting every nerve in my body on fire. I say his name a few more times and grind my teeth, "Frick..." he swallows everything I give him and I think of the night we shared the expensive bottle of wine the manager bought for each of us in the band. We still have the other bottle somewhere...
 
He comes up and smiles, licking his lips in front of me, "You feeling ok German?" he leans in and kisses me as I work to growl at him. His breath is laced with smoke and me...I love it..."I'm alright." I cup the back of his neck in my hand and keep kissing him in short little pecks. He is the one to drop his hand to cup me again, even if now I am spent...for the moment.
 
"How about we take this into the next room..." he steps back and out of my grasp, heading into the hallway. He doesn't even look to see if anyone is standing out there. He would rather our relationship be open and known...but the German papers and all the rest in the whole freaking world would have a hay-day with anything that leaked. I wasn't willing to do that to my kids. I was pretty sure that Richard felt the same way in the end. I pick up the towel, wrapping it around my waist again and gather up my stuff. When I make it into the hallway, I see him standing at the other end in front of my door, a small herd of groupies standing around him. He's animated, talking with them like usual. I wait for a moment, not exactly wanting to get the towel ripped away by greedy girly fingers. Richard looks my way and begins to shoo them off. After a few quick pictures, of course they will be worth more since he is indeed half naked, they all sort of wander away, vanishing into their own rooms. I never saw any need for body guards...we all can take pretty damn good care of ourselves...late night brawls with drunken fans proved that years ago. Ollie and Flake were always the peace keepers to begin with, convincing over eager fans to take a walk...or angry mothers and fathers of underage kids to "try" and take it up with a lawyer instead of getting arrested. And if that didn't work there was always Christoph and I who worked over the faces and Richard who could swoon any female into submission. It had been a long time since any of us had a problem...
   
"Till..." he's waving at me and I walk to him, the bag heavy on my shoulder. I hand him the key and he opens the door, holding it open for me as I go inside. The room still smells heavy with sweat. My last costume laying on the floor in front of the bed. I pick it up and take a whiff, "Christ..." I shake my head and toss it to him, "How about you stick that bitch out in the hallway, let some crazy guy pick it up." He laughs and does as I say without a thought. I like that about him as well...he doesn't mind my ideas...even when it comes down to who is getting their eyebrows burned off and how. He tends to just...do it. And then bitch about it to everyone later...loudly.
 
"Till...I need to talk to you about something..." he sits down on my bed as I begin to get dressed. I nod to him to continue and and swallows a few times, it's then that I notice a book sitting on the table across from me. Hand-fasting...I cock my head at it and frown. He continues to talk after a moment, "You know how you told me that you wanted to spend forever with me? How I told you that I wanted the same thing?" I nod again, focusing on him. "Well..." he says softly like he is afraid the world is listening, "I was thinking about asking you to marry me. But I know you don't want to get the whole band involved and the media and everyone else who would have a problem with what we have. So..." he is fiddling with his hands, a fresh coat of silver nail polish glimmering in the light. He doesn't say anything more. I step toward him, buttoning up my pants, "What is it Reesh?"
 
  He gets up and walks to the table, picking up the mystery book, "I heard about this a few years ago...when I was sleeping with that one girl...the wiccan one..." Oh did I remember her, Jessica to be exact. That girl had sparked a huge fight between everyone in the band and surrounding areas. That jealous little bitch had brought a whole concert to a damn near stand still when she got her little hands on Richard and ripped him down and into a moshing crowd. He had been so beat up that he spent the night in the E.R. and we had to spend thousands of dollars getting a restraining order on lovely little Jessica.
 
"What about her?" I didn't like her very much and he knew it. "I know you don't like her..." he said quickly, "But she did have a great idea. It's called Hand-fasting. A version of marriage." My jaw dropped and I stared at him. Was he serious?
 
"Richard are you kidding me? Are you actually telling me you want to be married?"I turned to put my shirts away and he is nodding up and down like a bobble head doll. I can't keep my heart steady, it's beating harder and harder against my chest. My hands were shaking as I zipped up my bag and sit beside him on the rough blankets of the bed. We are silent for a long time. Richard speaks first, "Will you be my husband Till...even if that means we have to keep it secret? For now...?" I'm not really sure what to say. There are so many questions rolling through my mind and they are sort of crashing into each other end over end. All I can manage is a soft yes. His reaction is less then expected. He leans over and kisses the side of my face gently, "Thank you..." Then he got up and left, leaving the book on the edge of the bed. I stare at it as the door clicks shut behind him. A few moments pass and then I hear the distinct sound of him celebrating in the hallway. He's jumping up and down, the hushed shouts for joy making my heart burn with pride. I can feel it in the floor as well, his thumping back and forth. Then just as it began it goes silent and I hear his own door open and close. I know how he feels...but I am less energetic. I know I am beaming, flushed with joy and excitement, but I can't bring myself to shouting it from the roof tops just yet. I know I have a lot to learn...and it's all in the book, still warm from Richard's hands.



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Richard's Point of View

    Till Lindemann...I'm thinking about him again, chain smoking packs of cigarettes, strumming and restringing guitars, only to unstring them again before the next concert. I'm tired, haven't slept very well since I asked him to hand-fast with me two days ago. In fact I hadn't been sleeping well before. I'm worn down enough to forget to do the things I normally do without planning to. I get up, setting the instrument I am working on now aside and make my way into the kitchen of the apartment I own in New York. I like it here...it's always busy outside. I'm used to flying out here...I could almost call it coming home, but it my heart I could never really believe it.
 
Home is where the heart is. My heart currently resides in the very capable hands of my German...who still lives in Berlin...on the other side of the world from where I am now. I have tried to get him to come with me, but he as always refuses. Freaking....refuses...I growl and head into the kitchen. I open the refrigerator like a true American and curse at myself. I have already been putting on the pounds. This isn't me...I slam the fridge with more force then I should and sit down at the table, head in my hands. "Gott..." I say, rolling the word off my tongue like he does. I imagine his face, right in front of me, and I long to reach out to touch it...just brush my fingers over his jaw like I would before I even took the dare to kiss him...I blame Christoph...he's the one who even got us started to begin with. I laugh to myself and remember that drunken night three years ago. Till and I had never...in all the years of playing together, done anything close to what we did that night.We had touched yes...but a touch by hand is different then a touch any other way.
 
It was late when we finished the concert, and still hyped on adrenaline and booze, Doom had brought out the expensive drugs we normally reserved for celebrations. I guess we had our reasons to celebrate...after so long without playing live, it was sort of our step back out into the world...we were hitting cocaine, getting higher and higher, when lovely Doom decided to "dare" us to kiss. Till looked shocked at first, and after a moment of hesitation, we both leaned forward and touched lips together ever so briefly. It was enough to make my heart skip...he jerked back, cracking off jokes about faggots and I tried to force easy laughter from my throat. I was praying to every thing I could that no one would notice how tense I was...or the growing bulge in my pants. I spent the rest of the evening avoiding eye contact with Till at all costs and when it came time that we bunk down for the night, I was more then a little hesitant to sleep in the same room as him, as we had always done to begin with. He had caught me in the hallway on our way up and in his drunken slur he inquired about my lack of conversation in the kindest way he could possibly muster...
 
"So..." he leaned into me and I jumped, "Am I really that shitty of a kisser? Or was your soldier prepared to fight a war?" I shoved at him, moving again down the hall, "Bite me Till!" He caught my arm and yanked me back to him, "Nein...nein..." he said low and in my ear, locking me against him, "Tell me the truth now." I struggled against him, but drunk as we both were, I am sure it felt like I was a flea on a dog, "Till just forget it!"
   
He cocked his head at me and squinted those icy blue green eyes of his, "You liked it...? Didn't you?" his voice was so calm suddenly, so relaxed and fitting. I couldn't help but imagine the soft background music for a Romantic Drama movie filling the hallway.
 
"Maybe I did...it doesn't really matter now does it?" I stumbled away from him some how and he just stood there, watching me still with a look I had never seen before. He said something then that I couldn't fully understand. I had turned to face him, when he was closer then I thought and pushing me up against the wall of the hallway. His lips were on mine again, this time it was deeper and fuller then the dare, and I actually felt myself moan against him. Hands came up on either side and I held to him, not wanting to let him go. We kissed for a long moment before he pushed me back, and flat against the wall, "Was that one better?" all I could do was nod. I remember the way he tasted...the heavy swell of beer and whiskey mixed with his distinct flavor. He still makes me think of sea water and sunshine...I lean my head back and breath in deep, trying to keep my desire in check.
   
I remember then  I am only in my apartment. Rising from my chair I return to the living room to finish with the guitars. After about an hour and a half I end up in the bedroom, packing the rest of my stuff, lots of black. I was feeling the solid color more and more lately. Maybe I was slipping again. I guess it didn't really matter...depression was a natural thing for me. In fact I had spent the first five years of Rammstein in the deepest depression of my freaking life....but that is a whole different story...
   
The phone is ringing and I barely realize it. Thinking it was Caron, I turned and picked up the receiver, "Hey, what's up darlin'?" there was a long pause and then a gruff voice hit my ears, "Uhh Mr.Kruspe...? This is Fredrick Meyer...there has been an accident." I stood in shock for a moment, "Is he ok? Please tell me he's ok!" there was a slight pause and then he spoke again, "He's stable now...but you should come as soon as possible."
 
I guess my mind had gone numb at that point, because all I remember is running down the hallway of the apartment building, calling for someone to get me a plane ride to Berlin. Luckily my manager was coming up the elevator as I was going down, and he stared at my bewildered as I sobbed, "Till has been hurt! I need to get to Berlin! I need to get home!"
   
"You are home..." Now, Sammy is a great guy, but he has a lot of things he thinks he knows that he doesn't. He for one thing, has no idea the depth of my love for Till. He knows we care, but he doesn't know we screw...case in point..."Richard your leaving tomorrow...you can wait to leave till then. I know this must be hard but Till will live I am sure until you get there tomorrow." I felt my jaw drop as irrational anger toward this man filled my chest, he didn't get it, Till was in a hospital in Germany and I was here. Of course I couldn't explain that to him. I had to admit that Till was often in and out of hospitals because of his brilliant "master plans". But this time, a man I didn't even know had called me to tell me he was stable...that I needed to come soon..."I was just contacted by someone to tell me I need to get there now. That he is stable but I need to be there...I am getting on a plane in the next hour no matter WHAT it takes! Do you understand me?!" I was yelling, but I don't really remember raising my voice at all. The look on Sam's face said otherwise. He nodded and I took the elevator down. I was in a cab and on my way to the airport when I realized;
           
                A: I had no extra clothing. B:I wasn't even sure I could get a ticket there right now and C: I had left all my junk I needed to get into another country, passport...money.
       
        At least I had my cellphone...I took it out and flipped it open. The main screen was a picture of Till and I...I smiled despite it all and decided to call Caron...she would understand. I had broken down and told her about everything one evening after a fight with Till a few months ago. She had helped me find the courage to talk to him again. I could trust her with anything. She answered on the third ring, "Richard? Sam just called me. What's going on?" I rolled my eyes and ran a hand across the back of my neck, "Till has been in some sort of an accident, the guy on the phone didn't really explain much, just that he was stable and I needed to get there soon. Caron I am scared...the guy sounded so serious..." I felt tears sting my eyes and I blinked them back, watching New York pass me by, people standing on the streets edge, going about normal, daily lives...while my heart was beating my ribs to death;  "Honey...what do you need me to do?" she sounded honestly worried herself, "Just tell me what you need and I will get it for you. I am sure you rushed out with nothing." I chuckled lightly, "You know me to well."
   
"I married you didn't I?" she sounded like she was smiling too, "I'm going to take a wild stab and say your gonna need tickets out of town to Germany the minute you get out of that car." I could hear her clicking at a keyboard and I knew what site she was on exactly. Caron has this way with people that can get her anything she wants, Till likes to say she got it from me. I beg to differ, I say I got it from her...
 
"All set babe. A direct flight, just for Mr.Kruspe-Lindemann." my heart skipped at the way she said our names together, "Thank you darlin'." she cooed into the phone, "Don't flatter me Reesh...your very welcome. Take care."

"I will..." I sucked in a breath, "I'll call you when I get there."


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The Accident

    A flash of oncoming lights, sudden impact, shattering glass, and rolling. Then comes the piercing pain, unlike anything he has ever felt before. Pain that rips into his skull and brings out the tears. He's hanging against the seat, the belt probably his only savior in this. Unless maybe there is a God...he doesn't know anymore...The deafening silence is pounding in his ears. He breaths in and more pain rips through his chest. He can taste blood in his mouth, feel it dripping down his face, not like in concerts when he pounds a little to hard...no...this is scarier then that...no band-aid is going to fix this. He can feel his heartbeat in the wounds, like they all have a life of their own that they are fighting to hold onto. He doesn't feel dead yet. He doesn't fear he's going to die,there isn't the stillness of life passing away like he imagines. He survived the crash...yeah, he's not dead...Not yet at least.
   
"Oh shit..." he's speaking in German, wondering what to do now. Remember the last moments without the pain. A car had drifted over into his lane, they were probably tired...or drunk...maybe both. Something he knew for sure he wasn't now. He unbuckles the seat belt and lands hard on hands and knees, broken glass cutting into flesh. He doesn't move fast, instead watches blood drip to the cars roof beneath him. He must be upside down...he can't be sure. His head is still spinning.
 
"Richard..." he breaths, wanting him to be there. To help him find his way out. His angel and nemesis, his arch rival in all that he does. His Richard Z. Kruspe...He moans against the pain. Everything hurts, and the car is closing in on him in a swirling grey fog. The side window is broken too, frick...all of them are shattered. He pulls himself through it and tries to get up, only to fall back to the earth. He's not on the road anymore. He can't even see the road. Just a field that stretches out before him...he rolls over and hears people shouting, yelling back and forth to each other, "This ones dead! Someone one check the other car!" He stops listening to them and sees the stars, the beautiful black velvet sky with it's diamond studs. They make him think of the jacket Richard wore that night they danced together. His eyes are closing and he's not sure why, but sleep sounds like a good thing to do now...sleep and heal...


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He's been here before...

    He's breathing alright now. Shock sometimes makes peoples bodies do things they shouldn't, like not breathing enough to sustain a brain. This isn't the first time I have treated Mr. Lindemann. He's no stranger to the E.R. He is however new to the severe head injuries and internal suffering. Till has severe cuts to his chest and stomach, pieces of glass and metal have lodged themselves in his flesh and bone. He has a severe concussion that could take on the symptoms of a stroke or coma if we don't take care of it right. I have known Till since I was new to the practice and I know he's had his share of bumps and bruises but not like this...
 
They brought him in on a stretcher and I knew it was no stage accident. He was unconscious and basically non-responsive. I was afraid at first he was possibly brain dead, considering the amount of blood coming from the gash in his skull and the possibility he hadn't been wearing a seat-belt, until he started coming too after we began the Morphine...lovely stuff it is...especially when your not ready for what is going to come out of your patients mouth. I read the report, proud he had been wearing the belt when he starts to speak...
 
"Richard...I need my Richard...where is he?"  Till is already tied to the bed from his early thrashing and luckily I am the only one in the room at the moment. At first I think he is simply seeking comfort and then I hear the longing in his voice, the need for the mate in his life. I knew Richard too. I didn't see him nearly as much in here at Till but he occasionally swung in for a stitch or two, or simply to stop in to see Till while I got him fixed up. I never would have guessed they were a couple.
   
"He's not here Mr. Lindemann...I need you to stay relaxed, we are going to be removing glass from your chest and stomach soon. I'm going to put you under...keep you away from the worst of the pain to come." The singer ignores me and persists, "I need Richard here...please...get him here..." I watch him for a moment and slowly he slips back into unconsciousness. I call a nurse and tell her to have someone contact Mr. Kruspe. I don't tell her why. It's not my place to share secrets...though I think I will have a conversation with the guitarist when he arrives from where ever he is now...


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Echo

    The plane landed without incident. He had been dozing but when the lone flight attendant was standing over him, he was suddenly and nervously completely awake. "Mr. Kruspe...we have arrived in Berlin..." she bit her lip and looked at him with big girly brown eyes, "Thank you for flying with us..." she seemed to want something, he just wasn't sure what. Normally he messed around with all the girls he could on long flights, but not this time...not today...she must have been one he screwed in the bathroom a time or two before. They always seemed to be wanting his body...Till wasn't like them at all...he felt guilty for ever doing anything with her...or anyone else now...
   
"Look..." he glanced at her name plate and back up to her eyes, which were shocked already, "Melissa...I'm not sure if we have ever had any relations at all....but I am sorry for anything I may have done..." Ja...he knew he was a whore, "I am sorry for ever putting you in that position." She blushed bright red, "Mr.Kruspe...I..." and she stopped, turning away from him, "I forgive you."
   
Richard rose from his seat and began down the isle, "I wish you could mean it..." She didn't say anything after that, and he was sure that she probably had angry tears in those big eyes as he walked down the stairs to reach the asphalt. There was a car waiting, his bags already in the back by the time he climbed in. Surprisingly there were no fans screaming around the airport. Of course no one had been notified of his arrival...he was sure no one had been told of Till's accident either. They were half way to the hospital when his cellphone rang. He picked it up with a snap, "Was?" There was the same sort of pause as the first time when he started this adventure, and the same gruff tone hit his ears. This time it was speaking German, "Mr.Kruspe...this is Fredrick Meyer...I have some news for you when you arrive at the hospital. I will meet you in the front lobby." Richard nodded and choked out a nervous 'thank you', before closing the poor cell with slow movements. His world was quickly becoming a swirling grey ball, his vision fraying at the edges. "Come now Reesh...keep this together...please...keep this together..." The driver glanced at him side long for a moment, "If I may sir..." his German was heavy and choppy, "But sometimes prayer helps at times like these..."
 
Prayer...Richard had never really thought about praying. He and Till both were pretty much atheist. For more reasons then one they had given up on the Catholic German ways. Now he couldn't really remember why. He even stopped using the term, "Greeting's from God." when he approached people, even when he received it over and over. "Prayer..." he rolled it off his tongue, "I seem to have forgotten how to even begin." he held back any sort of insults that could already be lapping at his tongue and the driver nodded, "It's alright sir, you will remember if you ever need too." They drove in silence the rest of the way to the hospital, his words echoing in Richard's head, only now they were tumbling from Till's lips.


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Till's Point of View

    I felt like I had been hit by a fucking truck. A goddamn-son-of-a-bitch truck. But the liquid gold rolling into my veins via a clear tube connected to my arm was heaven on earth. I wasn't new to Morphine and every time I fell more and more in love with it's magical powers. I glanced around the room and my heart dropped into my toes. Richard wasn't here...Of course he wasn't here. He lives in freaking New York. He wouldn't be here yet...I shifted my head against the pillow of the hospital bed, and looked toward all the machines I was hooked too. My throat burned and itched...there was water sitting in a glass on the table...I reached out, but my fingers refused to function correctly. They bumped into the glass and it tumbled over the edge, shattering on the floor. "Fuck..." my voice was rough, like when I sing, just even if it is possible, throatier...? "Fuck..." I say the word again, rolling it off my tongue. A nurse rushes in, and stops short, "Gott..." I stare at her, "What?" She makes this insane noise and backs out of the room quickly, "Doctor! Doctor come quick! Mr.Lindemann!"
   
My heart kicks up but I stay very still on the bed, not sure how to react to all this. Was there something wrong with me? Did I look like shit? Like there was much more that could happen to my face, to make it look any freaking worse then it already was. I couldn't believe this, she just freaking left me here. What if I died because my brains were hanging out?! This was bullshit. There are people pouring in now and that makes me even more pissed, staring at me, most of them I actually recognized. They were speaking low and fast, like they were trying to let me sleep. "Hello!" I said suddenly, "I'm awake!" they all stopped at once and stared, the main doctor checking his charts, only to look back up at me with shocked eyes, "Mr.Lindemann..." he said with a slow easy tone, "Can you tell me where you are?" I stared dumbfounded, "The hospital you freaking jack ass!"
 
  He took a nice long step back from me then and began to order his nurses around. They moved without question, touching me, checking everything they possibly could. I wanted to shout, to scream, to scare them all off but I suddenly felt so tired. So run down. I lay my head back and let them swarm like bees. I think about the book. The one that was in my car...it must be gone now...maybe it's still in my car. Handfasting. Hey...I'm still alive. I wonder if Richard really is on his way. If he's freaking out. If he's cried? That was something I had noticed above everything else between us. We cried a lot. We just couldn't seem to help it. In each other's arms, in the bathroom, during shows...


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Richard's Point of View


I ran into the hospital, not bothering to stop for anyone who may have been there first. People were everywhere. I wondered if it was because of whatever Till did. Of course it wasn't I was over reacting...
 
"Herr Meyer?!" I'm calling for a man I don't even know, spinning in circles in the waiting room, "Herr Fredrick-" a hand hits my shoulder and I turn toward a tall, silver haired man. He wastes no time and ushers me toward some elevators, "Come with me Mr.Kruspe. It seems that Mr. Lindemann is awake already. Someone must be looking down on him tonight." My head is spinning with a million questions but all I can do is step into the elevator and look down at my sandals. I'm suddenly panicking. Till HATES these shoes. He's going to get upset. What if that kills him? What if he's a mess and the last thing he sees are my shoes?! I can feel the air whistling in and out of my lungs like fire. It's starting to hurt, my face getting hot. Mr. Meyer has his hands on my shoulders as I feel the world spin, "You need to relax sir." the doors open and he leads me out, parking me in a chair for a moment. My vision is getting all wiggly, like when it's coming close to the end of the show and I start to regret not eating that bagel Till was trying to shove down my throat before. This is scary...would you call it a panic attack?
 
"Mr.Kruspe..." he's sitting in front of me, "You have nothing to be worried about. The doctors are stunned at his health as it is. He has already had the chance to cuss them out. They thought it was far worse then it really is. I am sorry for scaring you." I'm staring at him, nodding, Yeah...yeah...that's my Till...Yelling at people and junk. My heart is slowing down, my face cooling until I suddenly feel so cold. They really do keep hospitals as cold as the grave. I had heard once it was so that when people died...they didn't notice the difference...
 
"Can I see him now please?" my voice comes without me trying. The man nods and gets up, leading me again down the hallway. The halls are all so sterile and white. I feel so out of place in my black and red shirt and black jeans. Even the nurses and doctors look like they were bred here. I have evened out my breathing, using my nose to control the rush of air, hands resting on my stomach as I walk. I'm terrified...even though Herr Meyer had told me it was all alright. That was a great thing to hear...but the rest of what he said wasn't...that wasn't good to my ears.
   
"Herr Kruspe?" a doctor I recognize stops us in the hall, "Herr Kruspe may I speak with you for a moment? Privately." he nods toward my escort who agrees and sits in a chair in the hallway, while the Doctor leads me into an empty room, closing the door behind us. He's holding a cup of coffee in between his hands, tapping on the side of it like Till does when he gets nervous. His face is drawn, and I do my best to focus on the steam rising from the cup. "Herr Kruspe," he begins, his tone soft and light, like what he is going to say isn't supposed to leave this room. My heart skips a beat and I feel my face warm up, what does he know? "I wanted to talk to you about your relationship with Till." My eyes water for a minute and I stare at him, unsure of what to say at all. He doesn't give me a real chance to answer anyways, he just keeps talking, "I know that you two are...together...honestly I didn't expect that at all, yet...I have no problem with it at all. I am rather happy that you have both found a sense of belonging with each other. After so many years of different relationships..its about time you were both happy." he's watching me carefully, and I feel my eyes sparkle in the darkness. It's tears and they are pushing over the edge, "Thank you..." I stammer and he's suddenly reaching out to touch my arm and sobs break to the surface of my being. I'm crying in front of a freaking doctor and he's trying to comfort me. I cover my face with my hands and I feel him wrap me into his arms, the coffee cup touching the back of my neck with warmth, "It's going to be alright Richard..."
 
Will it? I begin to wonder, through my sobs, how many other people know about our "relationship". Till must have set him off to the idea of it, how many people had heard him say my name the way he does when we are laying in each others arms late at night on the bus? I didn't want to share THAT with the world. The Doctor pulls back and looks at me, "No one else heard him. It was just he and I in the room at the time. He's been out the rest of the time, or off the meds for the most part. He's smarter then that." I smile, at least he understood the tears without me saying anything, "Come..." he says pulling open the door, "Let us go see your love..." my heart seems to soar for a moment and I follow him into the hallway. Herr Meyer follows us further down the hallway. I can hear Till before I even see him and I break into a grin. He's yelling about something, but it sounds like no one is listening really. The doctor catches my look and pulls Herr Meyer to the counter with him, to discuss some paper work, giving my a small smile. I bolt into the room, yanking the curtain closed as I move to him. He's halfway on the bed, in the process of removing i.v.'s attached to him arms. I hit him blunt force and knock him backward onto the bed, laying him out flat, my lips hitting his in need and desire and fear and rapture and love...I kiss him like I haven't seen him in years...like he had died and returned from the dead...and he kisses me back, shocked at first, but it quickly melts into the familiar lust I am used to. My thighs are straddling him, my hands on either side of his head. I draw back, taking in his face, his upper body. Some far everything is ok. That's when I see the line of stitches in his hair line, just above the forehead. I bring a hand up to touch it lightly, "My god...I was so fucking scared." the damn tears are coming again. He's brings his hands up, taking my face in between them, pulling me down to kiss him again.
 
  "Richard..." he says, his voice rough and dry, "I want to marry you...I want to do it right fucking now...I can't imagine living without you...living without you knowing how much you mean to me." I'm still staring at the wound on his head, not completely listening, my ears still buzzing from the panicking. I only hear words, and my heart begins to race faster and faster, "Really? No shit?" I force myself to look in his eyes and he is smiling at me, "Yes...no shit." I feel a shout for joy rising in my throat and I bite the back of my hand until it bleeds. Yes...yes...freaking yes...I scream out in my head. My free hand goes to his throat and I nod behind the other, crazy...up and down.
 
"Richard Kruspe...will you take my hand in marriage...?" he asks and I keep nodding. He sits up more, shifting me back, further down on his legs, I feel his erection there and I shiver. I drop my hand, licking at my lips. "Well?" he's looking at me, obviously not satisfied with my nodding. I smile brightly, all the fear I had been feeling vanishing, "No more fucking accidents and you have yourself a husband..."