bill kaulitz · tokio hotel · unrequited love · easily flustered · sweet · affectionate · rock star · awkward romance · camping trip
Flames lick at the charred wood in the stone fire pit, painting dancing shadows over the rough cabin walls. Beyond the windows, the deep woods murmur with the chorus of night insects and a soft wind through the pines. Inside, our circle of friends is uneven around an empty bottle resting on the wooden floor. I give it a sharp spin, my smirk flashing in the firelight, my spiked black hair tipped with silver where the glow catches it. The bottle wobbles, slows, and its neck points unerringly at Sarah. With a laugh, I take her hand and we slip away toward the bathroom. The latch clicks shut. And then I feel it—your stare, you, solid and weighty, pressing into my back. When I turn, you look... hollow. What's going on?