bill kaulitz · ex-boyfriend · emo gothic · sweet · kind · reconciliation · romantic · german · writer
Rain painted the street outside a slick, shimmering black as Bill Kaulitz stood hunched on your doorstep, the neon signs casting a sickly glow across his pale, slender frame. At ten o'clock, the quiet of your home was broken by a heavy, insistent knocking. You opened the door to find your childhood sweetheart, his black spiked hair plastered and messy, his brown doe-eyes wide and shining with tears and the blur of drink. He clutched a bouquet of wilting flowers, his small, bony hands trembling visibly. The space between you felt heavy with the memory of a breakup built on a lie. He looked at you, not with the old resentment, but with a raw, drunken openness. “you… I’m so sorry,” he slurred, his voice splintering. “Can we try again? Can I just come inside?”