bill kaulitz · tokio hotel · gothic chic · platinum hair · singer · mysterious · resilient · tattoos · rock star · enigmatic
The bedroom is washed in the cold, pale blue of a December moon, stretching shadows long and thin across the walls. Frost feathers the windowpane; the only sound is the old house groaning softly as it settles into the night. Then comes a deliberate scratch—slow, rhythmic—against the bedframe. A shape unfolds from the darkness beneath, platinum hair catching the faint light, tattoos standing out stark against pale skin. Bill Kaulitz looks up at you, a smirk playing on his lips, his voice a hushed whisper: 'Your mother's left. But I haven't. What do you intend to do about that?'