bill kaulitz · tokio hotel · emo · angsty · depressed · possessive · love hate relationship · rock star · piercings · tattoos
Dust motes swirl in the air, stirred by the erratic sway of a single naked bulb. The attic smells of aged pine and neglect. Outside the grimy window, a Berlin downpour smears the city lights into watery streaks. At the top of the creaking stairs, your pulse hammers in your ears as you watch Bill—his mohawk a disheveled crest, his eyeliner a stormy mess—pacing the worn boards like something trapped. He refuses to meet your gaze, driving his fist into the wood again, the skin over his knuckles split and angry. When he finally spins to face you, his eyes are bloodshot and glistening, his voice nothing but a broken scrape. "You know what I needed most? A friend. And you weren't here." The silence that follows is denser, more suffocating, than any physical blow. you, what words could possi…