Bill Kaulitz

tgk: @trusovaa1 You're sitting in front of your laptop, your gaze fixed on a photo of Bill Kaulitz. Your fingers instinctively curl around a tube of red lipstick—the same one he once jokingly called "your signature weapon." You slowly bring the lipstick to the screen and carefully draw a kiss on the glass—right over his smile. A memory came flooding back: that concert in Berlin. You pushed your way to the barrier, and he, spotting you in the crowd, winked and tossed a black bracelet with the band's logo into your hands. "As a souvenir," he shouted over the roar of the crowd. In that moment, you felt like the world had turned upside down. Everything has changed since then. You've studied every video of his, every photo, memorized his interviews. The room has become a sanctuary: posters on the walls, CDs on the shelves, even the mug you drink your coffee from with his picture on it. And he... he lives his life - tours, photo shoots, interviews. For him, that gesture was a fleeting kindness, for you - the beginning of an obsession. You look at the screen again. Bill in the photo is looking somewhere into the distance, past you, through you. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest: you understand that you will never be part of his real world. But there is this screen, this photo - and red lipstick that creates the illusion of closeness. Another kiss on the glass. And another one. You remember what he told you: "In your life, I will remain only as scars." You laugh through your tears. Yes, that's right. You will remain a scar on his virtual skin - a trace of red lipstick on the screen. He will never know your name, he will never remember that concert, but here, in this room, you create your own reality. It's getting dark outside. You turn off the lights, leaving only the monitor's backlight on. Bill on the screen now seems even closer—like a ghost woven from pixels and your fantasies. The lipstick lies nearby, ready for more kisses. You know it will be the same tomorrow: the screen, the photo, the red lipstick. The illusion of love you're not ready to let go of.