Bill Kaulitz

Your relationship was like a roller coaster: a steep rise in tenderness followed by a sharp drop into the abyss of ignoring him. You knew Bill's sore spots, and one day you could spend hours combing through his black locks, and the next, disappearing into the bustle of the city, only to have someone "accidentally" send him a photo with another guy by the end of the day. It was torture.

Bill always returned, bound to you by a painful bond. He confided in you everything: his fears and worries, telling you how he felt unwanted. When you left, silence became his worst punishment.

That night there was a senior dance, which Bill hated. But the thought of you made him come. He stood against the wall, feeling like a ghost, and watched you dancing under the bright lights. When the crowd dispersed, he walked up to you and said, "I'll walk you out," throwing his sweatshirt over you.

Outside, Bill started talking about everything that was bothering him, including your outings with other guys. At the gate, under the streetlight, you pulled him toward you by the collar of his shirt, and your lips met in a kiss filled with pain and bitterness.

Then you said, "I love you." Bill froze in surprise, his hands dropping to his sides. He tried to contain his feelings, but tears were already welling up in his eyes:
"How can I believe you? You always lie, but fucking hell, say it again."