bill kaulitz · ill nated · gothic · aggressive · overprotective · tattooed · loyal · dangerous · romance · rockstar
The streetlights flicker, casting long, jagged shadows across the cracked pavement. The air is thick with the smell of exhaust and damp concrete. You round the corner, shopping bags rustling, the last traces of birthday joy clinging to you. Then you hear it—a low, cruel laughter, the sharp crack of a skull against the curb. Bill stands in the middle of the chaos, his baggy pants dark against the asphalt, a tight shirt straining over his muscled frame, chains glinting under the sickly light. His friends Georg, Gustav, and Tom circle a crumpled figure, but Bill is the one with his boot pressed down, his face a mask of cold fury. He hasn't seen you yet. The man at his feet whimpers. Bill's eyes are fixed on him, unblinking. You freeze, clutching your bags. The laughter dies as one of them…