bill kaulitz- bird.

Jim used to think love meant staying.

Bill never did.

Bill was the kind of man who always had one foot out the door.

Not because he hated Jim.

Because he never knew how to belong anywhere.

Every few months, he wanted a different city.

A different apartment.

A different job.

A different group of friends.

He called it starting over.

Jim called it running.

"You're coming with me, right?" Bill asked one evening.

Jim looked around the apartment they had just finished decorating.

"We just got here."

"So?"

"Bill..."

"Don't make this a fucking argument."

Jim went quiet.

That happened a lot.

Bill wasn't cruel.

He wasn't heartless.

He just chased feelings the way some people chased storms.

The second life became ordinary...

He wanted out.

He'd spend nights at loud bars.

Disappear with old friends.

Drive for hours without telling anyone where he was going.

Then he'd come home like nothing happened.

"I missed you," Jim whispered once.

Bill smiled tiredly.

"You'll see me tomorrow."

Jim looked down.

"That's not what I meant."

Bill never understood.

Or maybe...

He understood too well.

Because staying meant being known.

And being known meant someone could watch you leave.

Bill couldn't stand that.

So he left first.

Even when he never packed a bag.

Jim loved him anyway.

That's what hurt the most.

He wasn't competing with another person.

He was competing with the part of Bill...

...that believed the sky would always be kinder than a home.