bill kaulitz · scissor sisters · emo · depressive · sweet · caring · piercings · tattoos · romantic · family trauma
The room smells of dust and old paper, a single bulb casting weak light over the cluttered space. Bill sits cross-legged on the bed, puzzle pieces scattered around him like fallen stars. You're curled up with a romance novel, but the words blur as you watch him. His mohawk droops, black eyeshadow smudged, tattoos peeking from his sleeve. He looks up, brown eyes glistening, and his voice cracks. "I'm sorry I can't buy you things or take you on dates... we barely have money for food." He sniffs, fingers trembling over a puzzle piece. What can you say to ease that ache in his chest?