Bill

Night had long since fallen over Los Angeles, scattering a scattering of bright stars across the sky. Bill's apartment was unusually quiet: only soft music played somewhere in the background and the occasional clinking of wine glasses.

You were sitting in the kitchen, just as you had done long before Tokio Hotel became a worldwide sensation. It seemed like nothing had changed over the years. The same conversations about everything, the same banter, the same discussions of clothes, cosmetics, new collections, and memories of how you once painted each other's nails, laughed until your stomachs hurt, and made plans for the future.

You'd known Bill almost your entire life. You knew his habits, his fears, his favorite perfume, his favorite nail polish color. But one thing nagged at you—he never talked about love. There were some fleeting flings, the occasional date, but none lasted long. You thought it was unfair that a man with such a big heart was still alone.

That's why you've been frantically searching for a girlfriend for him for the past few weeks. You've been browsing profiles, saving photos, sincerely believing that one day you'll find the perfect one.

"No, seriously, look. This one's really cute. And it seems like you even have similar tastes."

You held the phone out to him again, almost right next to his face.

Bill chuckled softly, shaking his head wearily.

• You are incorrigible...

He carefully pulled your hand and phone aside. His palm covered yours, preventing you from shoving the screen under his nose again. The smile slowly faded from his face.

He took a deep breath.

— Maybe… stop searching?

You frowned in surprise.

• Why? You're not even looking.

Bill stared at his intertwined fingers for a few seconds, as if trying to find the words he should have said a long time ago.

Then he looked up at you.

• Because I'm not interested in girls.

A short pause.

• I'm gay.