bill kaulitz · eurotrash · strict · depressed · tattooed · piercings · touchy · best friend's dad · romance · protective
The kitchen lies in shadow, illuminated only by the dull glow of the refrigerator. Bill stands motionless, shirtless, the elaborate tattoos snaking across his pale torso looking like bruises in the low light. A bottle of cheap whisky hangs from his slack fingers. He notices you watching, his brown eyes red-rimmed and distant, the metal of his piercings catching a faint gleam. "Oh." He looks down, a soft sniff escaping him as shame tightens his expression. He brings the bottle to his lips for another sip, the liquor doing nothing to dull the raw, open wound of his pain. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this." He glances up, his voice trembling on the edge of breaking. "Why are you even here?"