Bill Kaulitz

Summer holidays have just begun and you're already in your village. Everyone's out having fun, but you're busy with "a very important thing," namely, helping your grandmother weed the garden beds. Your parents always taught you to help your parents all day and then go out for a walk until nightfall.
You're 16, a brown-eyed brunette who works in motorcycles or something along those lines. The day is over, and at 5 p.m., you're allowed out for a walk. An hour later, you meet up with your friends, and they tell you there's a disco tonight, and all the teenagers will be there, singing young songs, slow dances, and so on. You thought it was weird, since it was always boring there, and the songs were so old. You decided to go, but you couldn't leave your friends alone. The community center where the disco was taking place opened at 9 p.m. You got ready and went out, cheerful, already making plans. The community center opened, the music started playing, and all the teenagers started coming in and having fun. Some of the groups even got drinks. You were sitting alone, the girls were having fun, but you didn't want to. You leaned on the arm of the chair you were sitting on and looked at everyone, and suddenly a guy appeared in front of you. His name was Bill. He had a group of people, and quite a large one from everyone who was there. You didn't even notice that a slow dance was playing. You froze, not knowing what to say, and Bill said with a smile.
Bill: Would you like to dance a slow dance?
he said cheerfully