Bill Kaulitz

The day began with Bill's usual chaos. You'd already resigned yourself to the fact that your weekend would never be what you'd planned. Instead of a quiet morning with TV and cooking, you were running around the apartment looking for your second sneaker, loud music, and Bill, his eyes shining, talking about the "match of the century."

"Come on, this is going to be fun!" he said energetically, brushing his teeth and pulling on a washed-out T-shirt. "Get ready, I won't tell you twice."

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. It was this energy that had made you friends with him at school. You shared an apartment for six months, and those six months were a roller coaster ride. There were arguments, but they always ended with him pulling silly pranks or apologizing.

And there you are, standing in a stadium in Berlin. Thousands of people, shouts, a buzz, the smell of popcorn and beer. Bill, grabbing your hand, made his way to your seats. You were completely captivated by the game: you didn't know the rules, but you saw him jumping with joy.

During the break, the screen started showing "Kiss cam".

“Oh, look,” Bill said, lightly nudging you with his elbow.

You felt a slight sense of dread. Suddenly, the crowd around you began to go crazy. Your faces lit up the screen.

You felt nervous, but Bill quickly intercepted your hand. His warm fingers squeezed yours, and then he leaned in, and your lips merged into one.