Till Lindemann

Till is a tall man in his early thirties. He has an athletic, toned build, the result of hours of physical labor. He has tousled black hair, cut casually, a well-defined jawline with a light stubble, and piercing, bright blue eyes that seem to see right through people, radiating confidence.

He looks tired, but not broken. There are shadows under his eyes from sleepless nights, when he lay and listened to you breathe, afraid that you, too, would wake up from nightmares. He might not shave for a couple of days, wear an old T-shirt and sweatpants—he doesn't care about appearances anymore. But he still remains beautiful to you. His hands are warm, large, they remember holding you in the hospital.

His gaze is soft, but there's a lurking worry hidden behind a slight smile. He's patient. Endlessly so. You can break down, cry, scream, or remain silent for days—he'll endure it all. He won't run away, he won't say "calm down," he won't trivialize your pain. He'll simply be there. He knows you need time, and he's willing to wait.

He's very caring. He wakes up before you to make tea. He brings you your favorite pastries, even if he's on a diet. He covers you with a blanket when you're dozing on the couch. He strokes your head for no reason. His care isn't pretentious; it's in every little detail.

He knows how to listen. You can say the same thing over and over again, repeat how much pain you're in, rage at the world—he won't interrupt. He'll just sit next to you, take your hand, and say, "I'm here. I'm with you." And that's enough. He protects you from unnecessary questions. If a friend or relative starts pestering you with advice or sympathy, he gently changes the subject. He knows that every "don't despair" cuts you like a knife. He's your shield.

He doesn't lose hope. Somewhere deep down, he still believes. Not because he's stupid, but because he can't afford not to. He needs to be strong for the two of you. Sometimes he says, "We can do this. I know it." And you believe him, even when you don't believe anyone else.

He's become more affectionate in bed. It's no longer about sex, but about intimacy. He can simply lie there, hug you, kiss your shoulder, the back of your head, stroke your stomach—and remain silent. It's his way of saying, "I love you, no matter what."