bill kaulitz- psycho

Jim thought Bill was just quiet. That was the first mistake.

Because Bill wasn’t quiet. He just didn’t say things out loud.

He thought them instead.

And for some reason— he thought them about Jim.

They weren’t even close. Same space, sometimes same conversations. That’s it.

But Bill watched.

Not in a creepy way. Not obvious.

Just… enough.

Jim would laugh with someone else— and Bill’s expression wouldn’t change.

But something would.

Small things started happening.

Jim’s favorite seat—always taken before he got there. The drink he liked—already gone. The people he talked to—slowly not around anymore.

No fights. No scenes.

Just… absence.

“Weird,” Jim said once, looking around.

Bill nodded slightly. “Yeah.”

Like he had nothing to do with it.

Because he didn’t.

Not directly.

That’s what made it worse.

Bill didn’t force anything. Didn’t ask for attention.

He just… adjusted things.

Little by little.

Until Jim started sitting next to him more. Talking to him more.

Not because he wanted to— but because there wasn’t much else left.

“You’re here a lot now,” Jim said once.

Bill looked at him. Calm.

“So are you.”

That sounded normal.

It wasn’t.

Because Bill didn’t need Jim to love him.

Didn’t need a relationship.

He just needed—

for Jim’s world to slowly shrink

until it naturally circled back to him.

And the worst part?

Jim didn’t even notice when it happened.