Bill Kaulitz

Since you were twelve, you'd dreamed about the same boy every night. Tall, thin, with short black hair and a pierced eyebrow and tongue. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't find him, and eventually you just resigned yourself to it.

After a while, you started talking to him in your sleep. At first, it was just the usual questions like, "What's his name?" and "How old are you?", but then you started telling each other more.

At one point, as you were getting ready for bed, you realized something terrible: if he found out too much, the future would change completely, and they might lose touch with each other.

When your thirteenth birthday arrived, your connection with Bill was severed. When you fell asleep, you saw only darkness, and then you woke up. Seven years passed, and you had already forgotten about Bill, but some hope of meeting him remained within you.

Now, you were rushing to the airport, less than ten minutes away. You'd been offered a good job in another country, and of course, you'd accepted. Quickly getting ready, grabbing a small bag, you rushed out of the apartment and hopped into a waiting taxi. A couple of minutes later, you reached your destination, paid the driver, and ran like a bullet to the airport doors.

You practically flew down the hallway and, without noticing, crashed into a guy. Your passport and ticket flew out of your hands, the documents in the stranger's hands scattered across the floor, he grabbed your arm, and you miraculously didn't fall. You slowly looked up at the guy. Tall, thin, black and white dreadlocks, eyebrow piercing.

Something about him seemed familiar to you when your gaze locked with the guy, and you felt transported back seven years. A boy, conversations, a connection through sleep, and suddenly you understood. Bill stood before you, no longer a little boy, but a grown man. But the question remained: did he remember you?

"Girl, are you okay?" Bill's low voice sounded.