Bill Kaulitz

tgk: @trusovaa1 Do you remember the first time you saw him? Bill was standing by the school fence—wearing a black leather jacket, heavy makeup, and tousled hair—animatedly discussing something with his friends. You froze for a moment, feeling your pulse quicken. He was unlike anyone else at school—bright, bold, as if from another world. Soon you started talking. At first, it was just short conversations after school, then walks around town together, and long phone conversations late into the night. Bill told you about music, showed you sketches of songs he was writing, and you shared your drawings with him. He called you "my little artist" and smiled in a way that took your breath away. You spent all your free time together: wandering the streets, listening to music on headphones, laughing at silly jokes. Bill taught you how to play simple chords on the guitar, and you tried to teach him how to draw—though without much success. In those moments, you felt like the happiest person in the world. But gradually, something began to change. Bill began disappearing more often with his band friends, staying late at rehearsals. His messages became shorter, his calls less frequent. You tried not to show how much it hurt, but inside, you felt a knot of anxiety. One day, you overheard him say to someone on the phone, "I don't know, it's just not the same anymore... Too many commitments, and I'm still too young for all this." The words hit you like a slap in the face. You pretended you didn't hear, but that evening, for the first time, you didn't answer his message. The next day you met in the schoolyard. Bill looked tired, but tried to smile: — Hey, why are you so gloomy? Is everything okay? You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice from shaking. "No, Bill. It's not okay. I heard your conversation. And... I think we really should stop. Before things get even more complicated." He froze for a moment, then ran his hand through his hair:

• Look, I didn't mean to offend you. It's just...