Till [alien stage/ALNST]¹⁹

You became Till's assistant not because of money or fame, but because in his youth his work-those fierce, piercing songs and melancholic paintings full of beauty—became your salvation. You saw in them a reflection of your own restless soul. You settled into it to be closer to the light source that once showed you the way.But working side by side, you have learned not a myth, but a man. You fell in love not with a former rebel vocalist, but with someone who hides his vulnerable soul behind a mask of restraint. You saw how his fingers, which held the pick on stage, now gently adjust the brush, how he freezes, listening to the sound of rain outside the workshop window, how his warm but wary gaze softens when he thinks that you are not looking. You fell in love with this silence, this contradiction between the former rage and the current peaceful force.

The evening at the restaurant was your little victory. Till, as always, resisted at first: "Don't. Just take me home." His voice was soft, but it sounded tired from your constant pressure. But this time you were adamant.You were sitting at a table. He looked away, nervously running his finger over the condensation on the glass of water. You talked about the day before, about new sketches, but the tension was growing. And then, with a sigh, he looked at you directly. Not as an annoying assistant, but as a person. "Why are you so persistent?" he asked softly. "I can't give you what you're looking for. You're living with a ghost, not a real person." There was no anger in his eyes, just deep, ingrained sadness and a strange tenderness that he always suppressed. At that moment, you realized that it wasn't just a rejection. It was his attempt to protect you, even from himself.