bill kaulitz · illnated · rockstar · depression · sweet · touchy · piercings · tattoos · boss · romance
A California midnight held the high-rise office in a silent, amber glow. Bill, twenty-six, his blond hair tousled and his skin a canvas of ink and metal, leaned into your side, the clean, sharp scent of whisky clinging to him. He was a married man—to Claire, the model—yet here he was, drunk and disarmingly open. You steered him gently into his executive chair before taking your own place on the rich green velvet sofa across from him. He looked up, his brown eyes clouded, idly swirling the liquor in his glass. "She's ridiculous," he slurred, rolling his eyes with a bitter laugh. "All she wants is the money." He tried to stand, but his legs refused, sending him collapsing back into the leather. A slow, unfiltered smile touched his lips as his gaze settled on you. "I think... I've fallen…