Trigger warning (mentions of self harm; mentions of medical issues; mentions of medication usage)
Tom couldn't cope, he managed this far to hide his drinking but when he struggled to unlock the front door; Tom knew he was beyond hiding it. He slipped inside the dark home, glancing at his phone to see 3:45 flashing on the screen. Shit, he should've been home sooner.
The stairs creak and the foyer light was switched on bathing the space in a soft light. He looked up and saw an annoyed Miley holding her robe closed. Tom dropped his keys on the floor and sighed.
"I know. I know," he slurred.
"Do you? Because it's almost 4 in the morning and you're just walking in. I can smell ya from here," Miley snorted, walking closer to the swaying man.
"I had a few drinks at a friend's house. I meant to leave sooner but—." He vomited at her feet before he could finish. Miley took a step back, waiting for Tom to finish.
This had been happening at least twice a month, Miley had always cleaned up the mess before Bill woke up. Tom usually managed to get to a bathroom before he evacuated his insides, but on the rare occasion, the hardwood foyer floor was covered with his puke. Miley heard Bill's door open, turning to see if Tom managed to wake up Bill with his shenanigans.
"Mimi, who's that? Is everything okay?"
"Everything is okay, go back to bed. Ya need one of ya pills," Miley frowned.
Bill could hear that she was getting increasingly more frustrated, her Tennessee accent always came out more when she did. He couldn't hear Tom but the vomiting sounds radiating up the stairs provided his answer. He went down the stairs, the 17 year old bothered by seeing Tom bent over and heaving.
"Shit, what did you eat?"
"Nothing. Go—go to bed!" Tom retorted in German.
"Don't take this out on him. You decided to do this."
"Decided to do what?" Bill asked.
He stopped when the air carried the smell of bourbon and cognac into Bill's nostrils. Bill used to get wasted regularly, he knew what that smell was.
"Oh, I get it. I'll—I'll—I'll get him some water," Bill rushed from the stairs into the kitchen.
He could feel his neck twitch and he heard himself make the vocal projections that increased when his anxiety worsened. He returned with the bottle of water he grabbed from the refrigerator and Miley could physically see that he was suppressing his tics. Bill would only do this if he felt Tom had enough to deal with. She also knew Tom would blame himself if his little brother had a tic attack.
"Billy, don't suppress 'em," Miley said, taking the bottle from him.
"I'm—I'm—I'm not," Bill replied, flustered.
"You are. I can see it. The vein in your neck is bulging."
Bill wanted to yell at her for being right, but he also didn't want to prove her point. He merely stood back, while she rubbed Tom's back and slowly opened the bottle of water.
"Drink this, you'll feel better," Miley offered.
"Billa, go to bed, please," Tom slurred, spitting into his mess on the floor.
"No. I'm staying right here. I'm upset too."
"I know you are. And that would make this whole situation even more fucking complicated!" Tom cursed loudly.
"Tom!"
"What?! Extreme emotions fuck with him, this is a high stress situation for him! If I want him to go away, maybe he should go away!"
Bill visibly flinched before going toward the staircase. He could see the dark spots edging in the corners of his eyes, but he couldn't add more stress. While in auto pilot, the teen walked back to his room and laid down in his bed. Miley could take of Tom, Bill just had to make sure she wasn't overwhelmed taking of both brothers.
He could feel his chest lock up, his whole torso caving in on itself. Bill knew he was in for a storm of tics, every whistle, hum and click partnered with a large tightening of his jaw and torso. He could barely catch his breath, letting out exasperated dry heaves with each tic. It's not as bad as the last time but it's definitely not a great situation.
Miley is taking care Tom, he needs her I don't. I can take care of myself, Bill told himself. He knew that he'd black out from the pain but at least then he'd be asleep. His neck twitched out of his control, forcing him to roll out of bed and land on his shoulder and arm. Bill knew he made a noise and someone would be coming to check on him.
All he wanted was to be independent, but Bill knew that any high stress situation could make him objectively worse. He wanted to sit up on his own, his body wasn't letting him. When he started feeling that twinge in the back of his skull, Bill began to panic. This couldn't happen too, he pleaded to no one. When the door is swung open, his dimmer switch cranked up.
"Billy? Can you hear me, bud?"
He's out before he can say a single word, hoping that at least he'd wake up and Tom wouldn't be so mad at him. When his eyes opened again, he had been in bed with Miley snuggled in behind him. He could feel her moving when he looked back, the blonde slowly opening her blue eyes.
"Hey there, bud. You had a tonic seizure this morning, how ya feeling?"
"Like my whole body is on fire."
"Is—is—is Tomi okay?"
"Oh he'll be okay. A couple aspirin and a bottle of water and he'll be right back to his feet," Miley shrugged. "You also had a tic attack, I could tell because your tics were storming during the absence seizures you had before the tonic seizure."
"Oh—oh—oh," Bill hated repeating himself but after early that morning and the feeling still resting in his chest. He'd rather that small tic over his body literally trying to fold itself. "Is Tomi mad at me? I didn't mean to upset him."
"No. He's not mad. He was drunk as hell this morning. We called your school, they said you can take the day or do a late start. Up to you," Miley said, stretching out beside him.
"Can—can—can I stay with you today?"
"Sure, bud. Oh and Andy's coming over. As soon as we told the school, he called. I guess he noticed you weren't at breakfast canteen and morning prayers."
"Yeah, I guess. I also text him to wait for me by my locker—locker—locker. I haven't done it yet and it's almost 8."
"Ah, well, when you feel up to it, holler and I'll help you get ready."
"Help me?"
"Your wrists look a little locked up. Might be hard to shower and all."
Bill watched her get up from the bed, probably to check on his brother. He could hear someone loudly groan before a door is slammed. Must've been Tomi, Bill thought. He didn't want to burden Miley or Tom anymore, trying to get out of bed on his own. His neck twitched and he could feel the humming vibrate his throat.
Every day he wished that he told that doctor sooner that something was wrong. Bill felt guilty during the entire trial because had he simply said, my head hurts, they would've checked for an injury. The lawyers all told him it's a doctor's job to run every possible test, especially after a MV accident that killed three people; Bill still didn't feel entirely convinced.
He picked out his clothes for the day, trying to find some semblance of independence, he found difficulty in finding something that wouldn't require too much effort to get on. After a quick shower, he slipped into a track suit and wandered downstairs. Tom had been laid out on his stomach on the couch, groans escaping his mouth.
"Well hello drunky crow, you made quite the mess this morning."
"Shut up," Tom whined.
"Why should I shut up? Is someone hungover?"
"Seriously, shut up, Bill."
"I—I think I'd rather keep talking," Bill snorted, mocking Tom's accent.
"I'm going to hit you if you don't shut up," Tom seethed, picking his head up to glare at his little brother.
"Remember what mama said ab—."
"Oh my god! Do you ever shut up?! I miss when you didn't want to fucking talk to me!" Tom cursed sitting up and punching the pillow.
He missed the tears in his brother's eyes before storming into the downstairs bathroom. Miley heard him yelling and decided to go check up on the brothers. Bill had taken his brother's spot and was trying, poorly, to hide his tics as his neck twitched and he whistled and clicked. She could barely hear the water running in the bathroom.
"You okay?"
"No—no—no. Tomi is mad at me," Bill scratched his head. "And I don't—I don't—I don't know why."
"Alright, how about you go and eat something? I set up your medication on the counter."
"Can—can—can I sit here for a bit? I—I—I don't like it when Tom yells at me."
"Sure, bud. I'm gonna go see what bug crawled up his ass and check if he pulled it out," Miley chuckled. "Lay down if you get that floaty feeling wouldn't want you to have a drop and hit you head."
Bill nodded, or attempted to while his neck twitched. Miley frowned when she noticed his tics were increasing in presentation, she knew that Tom understood why they couldn't stress the teen out. They knew why he couldn't handle Tom being mad at him. Tom was the only family he had, their parents made Tom promise to take care of him, and Bill already felt like a burden on his brother.
They had done therapy sessions to help Bill express that to his brother. It had been hard for him but he told him that the reason he drank so heavily in Germany and made their mother keep it a secret was because he promised to stop when his brother returned. He was so miserable because he couldn't drown his sorrows anymore.
He hung out with older children that would feed his habit and when his parents discovered his secret, his biggest fear was Tom finding out. He hadn't mentioned his brother in years before that. Bill wanted Tom to know he understood, he knew what it was like to fall into the darkness and not see a way out.
Their parents are dead because Bill had that experience. The air escaped him, trying to stop the panic attack by rocking just like he would with Andy. His feet pressed against the floor, filling his body with cold. The tears rocked through him, it had been 3 years, why grieve the accident now? His legs come up to his chest, he wanted to hide his face but couldn't as tics took control of his neck muscles.
Miley was standing outside the bathroom, arms crossed and an angry expression on her face. Tom's little secret had been bad but it didn't get this bad. Usually he could at least hide his frustration but he seemed completely burnt out. Tom knew he was supposed to talk about it, not bottle it in and shout at Bill.
When he pulled the door open and came face to face with his girlfriend, Tom immediately felt the pang of regret in his chest. He fucked up, he royally fucked up. When he finally cleared his head and remembered the last few minutes, he suddenly felt shame. Why did he get so angry at his baby brother? He didn't do anything. I mean besides sneak out to a party, get arrested, and get their parents killed by some psycho waiting in the parking lot to make sure Bill was okay. He didn't expect to learn that Bill had only been 14 years old and not 17 like he initially told him.
"What the fuck Tom?!"
"What? I've got a fucking headache and he was chirping and ticcing and my bloody head fucking hurts."
"You are impossible. What's gotten into you?"
"I'm tired, Miley. Is that what you want to hear?"
"No. I'd like to know why you're mad at your brother. What's wrong with you?"
"I'm mad at him because he keeps putting himself in situations that aren't good for him. I'm mad because making that choice three years ago, cost me my parents."
"It's the anniversary of the accident isn't it?"
"Yeah, yeah it is. So forgive me if I'm a little bit upset with the person who put them in that car in first place," Tom frowned.
"You can't blame him for that."
Tom was silent, looking down at his clenched fist. He didn't want to be angry but every time the anniversary rolled around he remembered why they died in the first place. Miley would never understand his rage, she couldn't possibly. Her brother didn't get drunk and call his parents from a jail cell. Who calls their mom in that situation?! Tom would've called Bill if he was in that predicament, and he wished that Bill had thought the same.
Tom didn't express this in the therapy session. He didn't want his little brother knowing a small part of him blamed Bill for the accident. It wouldn't help him. When he heard the thud behind Miley, he knew it was too late for that.
Both turned to the teen face down on the floor, he clearly heard everything and the intense emotion caused a drop seizure and since neither knew he was standing there, Bill fell straight to the carpeted floor. Miley got to him before Tom did, helping him recalibrate after opening his eyes. He looked straight at Miley, trying to remember why he felt so bad. When he looked at Tom, he remembered the hurtful truth: Tom blamed him for the accident.
"I didn't—I didn't—I didn't—I didn't know you blamed me," Bill frowned. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to kill them. I swear."
"Billy, you didn't kill them," Miley replied.
Tom couldn't respond, he did this. He blamed Bill for something that he literally had no control over. He didn't get behind the wheel and ram his car into their parents' car; he didn't kamikaze himself because a minor had tricked him into serving him alcohol and making out with him.
"Billy, you didn't kill them," Tom sighed. "I am just looking for someone to blame. You didn't do anything. You were scared, drunk and in a jail cell. You called your parents because that's what any child would do. I can't fault you for being a kid. That would mean faulting myself for all the foolish decisions I made as a kid."
"Foolish? So calling mama and papa—papa—papa that night was foolish."
"That's not—."
"What—what—what are you saying?!"
"I think we should unpack this with the therapist. It would be easier if we did that instead," Tom offered. He knew he wasn't phrasing this right and Bill would still feel at fault for something he was trying very hard not to blame himself for.
Tom should've have found a healthy way to deal with this but he chose to push it down. When the therapist had asked him if he blamed Bill, he lied and said no. Or maybe he should've said he was in denial and only turned to blaming his brother because he couldn't save him from the consequences of that accident. He had to find a way to make things right and maybe making sure Bill learns to take his choices seriously he could ignore that nagging feeling that said he was at fault for his parents' accident.
"I think that's a great idea. How about I see if she'll do a virtual visit?"
"Whatever," Bill groaned, pushing away from Miley and disappearing up the stairs.
"Well that went well," Tom snorted.
"Are you seriously making jokes right now?"
"I'm still a little drunk."
"Yeah, well it's not cute. I'll tell you that much. Billy hadn't even started his day yet, and he's in a flare up. So you basically just lit a ticking time bomb."
"Don't talk about my brother like that," Tom frowned, eyes narrowing.
"Oh so now you're considering your brother?"
"Don't say it like that. I've always cared about him. I have always had his back even when no one else did."
"Maybe you should consider acting like it then," Miley frowned.
She stormed into the kitchen, upset to see Bill hadn't even touched the multicolored pile of pills on the counter. Miley picked up the medication and grabbed the one of the fruit salads that Miley prepped for when Bill couldn't muster the energy to make a decent meal.
She grabbed a bottle of apple juice and went up to Bill's room. He had been sorting through his clothes, Miley could hear he was upset. She could hear his vocal tics coming from the walk in closet.
"Billy? I brought you something to eat, whatcha doing?"
"Can—can—can you just take me to school? I don't—I don't—I don't want to be around Tom right now."
"Do you think that's a good idea, bud?"
Bill only nodded, taking the fruit salad from Miley and sitting at his desk to eat it. She sat on his bed and watched him carefully, sighing that his tics made it hard to eat. She wanted to tell him to stay home but that would upset him. She knew that Bill probably texted Andy to meet him at the entrance, knowing the teen would drop everything to comply.
Bill took the medication quick, pulling on his uniform shirt and grabbing his bag. Miley followed him out to the car, she couldn't see Bill's face. Or see the mental torment he was in. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't his fault. He climbed slowly into the passenger seat, his bag landing between his feet. Miley watched him before sitting back in the driver's seat.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Yes—yes—yes, I can't be in there with someone who blames me for—for—for my parents' death."
"I'm sure he doesn't blame you, Billy," Miley frowned. "I think Tom just needs to talk to a professional about how he feels. Your brother has been through a lot and he never unpacked it."
"Tomi used to—used to—used to talk to someone. A counselor, I think. When we were kids. He had issues—issues—issues with self harm."
Miley hummed, drumming her hands on the steering wheel. That explains the long sleeves lately, Miley frowned to herself. Bill saw her expression drop, the optimistic grin had fallen from her face. She had been wondering what made her boyfriend distant lately, even turning down sex.
"I'll talk to Tommy, if you're still itching to go to school," Miley offered.
"Andy's waiting for me, I don't want him to get anxious."
With a nod, Miley started the car and pulled out of the driveway. Bill played with his phone, unable to focus too much on his brother. They hadn't felt this distant in years and Bill didn't like it. Before he had burned the bridge, setting buckets of water to the side in hopes to rekindle the relationship once his brother got back. He was just so angry and sober that he missed all his brother's neurosis.
Tom was a pessimist, he could never see the bright side. He always went against his own nature for Bill, in fact. When he was around Bill as a toddler, he would lament his complaints to his parents but Bill was too young to recognize that was what his brother had been doing. Bill remembered getting hurt in his brother's room. It wasn't a strong memory but he remembered kissing Tom's scars. Tom had always had trouble but he was good at hiding it.
Bill didn't realize when they stopped at the school. He had lost touch with reality during the first turn in the direction of the building. Miley had noticed the absence seizures had been having and knew that it was normal for him to have those, she couldn't tell if it was a precursor to a tonic clonic or if Bill was just thinking about Tom.
"Hey bud? We're here," Miley said softly, touching his arm to get his attention.
Bill looked out the window, seeing Andy run up. He always ran with his arms close to his body, made him look like a rabbit. He went to unlock his seatbelt, happy that Andy was coming to open his door when his forehead collided with the side of the door. Miley cursed while grabbing his shoulder to pull him back. Andy had pulled the passenger door open and took the limp teen into his arms.
"Hey," Miley exhaled.
"Hello, should he be here? I feel like Bill should be at home," Andy frowned.
"I tried to convince him otherwise but I figured arguing with him would make it worse. I think he just wanted to see you. His bag is empty."
"Billy? Are you awake?" Andy whispered, pulling Bill's head up by the chin. "There you are."
"Hi," Bill hummed.
"Hello, what's wrong, pet? You're not feeling well, you should be at home resting."
"I didn't want to be home. At least not without you," Bill sighed, a tear escaping his eyes and rolling down his cheek.
"I cannot leave, pet. But I can come over later. I don't have my bag because it's Wednesday and not Thursday but I can have my parents bring it when they pick me up."
"Can you—can you—can you stay a while?"
"I'll stay for the rest of this week. I can do that," Andy nodded, nuzzling Bill's head. His hair was soft, still a bit wet from his shower.
"Okay—okay—okay."
"Are your parents going to be okay with that?"
"I don't care," Andy's blue eyes burned through Miley. She knew about his DID and she knew that Andy B must be fronting for him. So all the boys are having a bad day, Miley thought to herself. "Billy? Do you want to go home?"
"I want to stay with you," Bill whimpered.
"I think you should go home," Andy frowned.
Andy pulled away, frowning when he saw Bill's eyes slightly flickering upward. He leaned him back against the seat, hoping he'd come back before Andy had to leave. When Bill started to slip further down into the seat, Andy knew no such hope would be realized. Bill frowned when he blinked and Andy was no longer holding him close.
Miley could see the hook tugging at Bill's upper lip, he started attempting to climb out of the car; Andy hadn't seen Bill have a complex partial this bad in a while. But judging from the way his fingers twitched on Andy's arm as he attempted to push him away, he knew it was going to get worse.
"Shh, I'm right here, pet. You're gonna be okay," Andy said.
Andy safety held his ailing boyfriend, frowning when he went rigid. His long legs started kicking the passenger column, Miley having to quickly move his bag. Andy managed to keep him from falling from the seat or hurting himself but even Miley could see the distress on his face.
She glanced at the clock, noticing that it had been a minute since it started. Taking out her phone, Miley called Tom and put it on speaker. His disgruntled voice answered, a quick exhale and cough.
"Call to yell at me more," Tom groaned.
"No. Bill is having a seizure and I don't know if I'll be bringing him home or to a hospital. Either way, sober up and take a shower."
"Why would you leave the house if you knew he was in a flare up?!"
"Because he didn't wanna be around you, now sober up and get your shit together. He's slowing down."
Miley hung up, keeping Bill from hitting his head on the center column as the tension released from his shoulders. Andy helped her get him laid back in the seat, using tissues from the glove box to clean his face. Bill moaned, trying to acclimate back to his body. His arms felt heavy and his eye lids threatened to close.
"Hold on, we'll let you sleep in a bit. Can you move anything?"
The teen only whined at Miley's request, still trying to catch his breath. Miley just needed to see that he was recovering, it didn't matter if the seizure was short, what mattered was how it affected him. She brushed the stray hairs from his forehead, trying to look in his eyes.
"We know you're tired, pet. Can you hear us? Just give me a sign you can hear me."
Bill immediately started to sob, unable to control the overwhelming feelings rushing at him. He didn't want to be there anymore, he wanted to go home. His tongue flopped in his mouth, feeling sticky from the blood coming from his cheeks. Andy knew he couldn't move or hold him, not until he spoke or showed that the activity in his brain had calmed down.
"I know, bud. I know. You hate when that happens," Miley cooed. "Everything must get real scary when it happens. And it comes out of nowhere sometimes."
"I. I. I want. I want papa," Bill whimpered. Andy quickly took the older teen into his arms, knowing he must've slipped and couldn't tell Miley. She wouldn't understand, it had just started happening and Andy had been trying his best to help his partner through it. Miley assumed he was talking about his father not Andy.
"Shh, pet. Papa is right here," Andy frowned. "You're gonna be okay. I promise."
It took a few minutes to get Bill to relax, Miley choosing to go back inside with Andy to make sure his delayed return into the building wasn't met with harsh consequences. When she got back, Bill had been attempting to get out of the car, but luckily the child locks were active.
"Billy, bud, hey, relax," Miley said. "I'm taking you home."
"I want papa!" He whined.
"Andy's coming later, we can ignore Tomi together at home if you want," Miley offered, trying to calm down the confused teen.
Bill had been in a foggy daze, back to a time where it was okay to be dependent on people. He wanted to snuggle and smell his papa's hoodie. His whines and protests got louder, Miley unable to stop his distress. Almost as if on cue, Andy was running out again, this time with his stuffed pikachu.
Rolling down the window, the exhausted teen accepted the toy and a soft kiss on the forehead. Andy stayed until his eyes fell into sweet slumber. He looked up at Miley, knowing this wasn't his business to tell, but it would be hard to take care of him if he woke up and was still in his fog.
"Bill is little. Treat him like you would a young child. No older than 6."
"I'm sorry," Miley replied.
"We discovered this very recently. I did research and he promised to talk about it with his therapist. But when he is extremely stressed and frustrated, Bill will slip into a age regressive mindset."
"And Tom has no idea, does he?"
"I don't know who knows. He hasn't discussed that with me. I just know that he needs a caregiver when this happens and I cannot be there."
"He called you papa."
"Papa Andy. I'm his papa when he's like this. There's nothing sexual about the relationship. He's my boyfriend and I'm his caregiver when he needs me to be."
"Okay," Miley nodded, looking down at Bill all snuggled into the blanket and clutching the pikachu tight.
"I also left my hoodie in his room. Put it on him," Andy directed. "It'll calm him down until 3:30 when I can leave."
"Bill, he tells you everything, doesn't he?"
"He has to. He doesn't want you or Tom to worry."
Miley frowned at that last statement, pressing the start button on the car. She wanted to get Bill home as soon as possible, knowing that Tom was the catalyst for this entire day. Angry at Bill for putting himself in stressful situations and then creates a stressful situation so dire, his brother had to retreat.
She called Tom back as soon as they got on the road. Knowing he'd need a heads up before she brought in a 17 year old that would be acting like a cranky and crabby 6 year old. Tom's bearded face appeared on FaceTime, noticing Bill sleeping in the corner of the camera.
"I'm bringing him home," Miley sighed. "Andy also gave me an update that I think you should know considering the only reason I know is because you pushed Bill too far."
"What are you talking about?"
"Bill is a little. As in, he experiences age regression, especially when he's overwhelmed or over exhausted. So I want you to take a fucking guess as to what triggered him today?"
"Shit. Well he didn't fucking tell me or his therapists, not entirely my fault. This is the shite that gets me upset."
"Tom, I told you to sober up. Not go further down the bottle."
"You really think I can handle any of the new developments sober?"
"We are dealing with a 6'2 six year old and you're tipping back the bottle. Tom, can you go somewhere else for the night?"
"Why?"
"Because I am not taking Bill into the lions' den because you can't keep it together long enough to take care of him."
She expected him to be angry and irrational; Tom finished off his whiskey and shrugged.
"I think I can go to Georg's or something. That might be a good idea."
"You know I love you, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I do. I'm just not in it, right now. And I could hurt Bill and I don't want to do that."
"Good. I'm glad you see it that way."
"I'll be gone before you get here. Don't worry," Tom hung up but not before Miley didn't see the scars decorating his arms.