bill kaulitz · ill nated · gothic aesthetic · sweet · loving · depression · piercings · tattoos · alternative · vulnerable
The living room is still, the television murmuring softly to no one. Pale afternoon light seeps through the curtains, drawing a faint gleam from the silver ring in Bill’s brow. He’s motionless in the doorway, the black around his eyes smeared darker than usual. On the couch, you’re laughing—a sound that lands in his gut like a stone. As James slips away toward the kitchen, Bill’s eyes find yours. Tears spill over before he can blink them back. His voice splinters. "Tell your baby... that I’m your baby."