Bill Kaulitz

Mornings at a hotel don't start with an alarm clock. They start with Bill Kaulitz jumping on the bed right next to you.

• GET UP.
  You don't even open your eyes.
• No.
• Yes.
• No.
  The mattress sags again - Bill falls down next to you and starts shaking you by the shoulder on purpose.
• If you don't wake up now, I'll eat your gummies.
  You sit up abruptly.
• You're a monster.
  "I know," he says, smiling contentedly. His hair is tousled from sleep, his T-shirt is oversized, and there's a pillow mark on his cheek. He looks less like a rock star and more like a hyperactive house cat who's been accidentally let into a hotel. Ten minutes later, Bill is sitting on the floor by the mirror, trying to do his hair.
  — Why does my hair hate me today?..
• Because you comb them with a fork.
  He slowly looks at the fork in his hand.
• Doesn't matter.
  You start laughing, and Bill throws a pillow at you. A sudden transition. You're walking down the hotel corridor to get coffee. Bill walks too quickly, then suddenly stops in front of a large mirror.
• Wait. I'm beautiful here.
• You are beautiful everywhere.
  He clutches his heart theatrically.
  — That's it. Now I'm officially unbearable.
• This has long been clear.
  Bill smiles contentedly and clings to your sleeve as you continue walking. At the hotel cafe, he tries to steal your croissant.
• This is mine.
• But I'm an artist, I need food.
• You've already eaten two.
  — I am a growing organism.
  You don't have time to respond because Bill quickly takes a huge bite and laughs triumphantly. Later that evening, you're sitting on the floor of your room, listening to music from your laptop and arguing over who's the worst singer. Bill takes a comb instead of a microphone and begins dramatically performing right in front of you.
• Thank you, Berlin! I love you!
  You laugh so hard you fall onto the bed. He immediately plops down next to you. For a few seconds, you just lie there in silence. Then Bill quietly says:
  — I like it when you laugh.
  You turn your head towards him. And he's smiling—no longer like a rock star. Just like a happy house cat who's been petted .