15. Pretending

After the meet and greet finally wraps up, we head to Bill’s hotel room. We’ve barely spoken all night, and honestly, I have no idea what to say now.

When we reach the door, he unlocks it and gestures for me to go in first. I step inside, my eyes scanning the room. It’s dimly lit, quiet, and neatly arranged. In the center, a single large bed. My heart gives a little jolt, but I try to play it cool as I move further in.

"That was an amazing show," I say, breaking the silence. I turn around, a soft smile playing on my lips.

He lets out a tired chuckle, kicking off his shoes before collapsing onto the bed with a sigh.
"Thanks. I'm exhausted."

I hesitate for a moment, then quietly sit down on the edge of the bed, slipping off my shoes one by one.

"Fourteen concerts left," he says, exhaling deeply.

I glance over my shoulder. "Yeah."

I hear him shift in the bed, the sheets rustling softly as he gets comfortable.

Slowly, I turn toward him. Our eyes meet for a brief second—just long enough for my heart to stutter.

"I didn’t really think this through," I murmur. "I didn’t bring anything to sleep in."

"You can borrow something," he replies, nodding toward his suitcase.

"Thanks," I say, standing up and walking over to it. I bend down, rummaging until I find the first shirt within reach.

"I’ll be right back."

Without waiting for a reply, I slip into the bathroom and close the door behind me.

Funny, isn't it? We've seen each other naked—more than once, even—but here I am, hiding in the bathroom just to change my clothes.

I undress slowly, slipping out of my clothes piece by piece. Then I pull his shirt over my head—it drapes over me, soft and lightly oversized, falling just halfway down my buttocks. It barely covers me, and instinctively, I tug at the hem, trying to pull it lower.

I fold my clothes with care, smoothing each item before placing it in a neat little stack on the bathroom counter. I take my time, dragging out the seconds, stretching.

Stalling. I know I’m stalling. But I’m not quite ready to step back into that room.

I exhale, giving myself a quick look into the mirror before opening the door and stepping back into the room.

Bill is lying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the sheets draped lazily across his lower half. The dim light casts soft shadows across his face.

I walk toward the bed, my eyes fixed on the floor, his eyes burning on my skin.

Without looking at him, I slip beneath the sheets. I pull the blanket up to my chest, almost cautious.

I turn onto my side, and after half a second, he shifts too—his head turning toward me.

My eyes flicker to his bare chest, just briefly, but long enough for him to notice.

I look away, fixing my eyes on the sheets.
"You should get some sleep."

"You too." He says, nodding. I catch the motion at the edge of my vision.

Our eyes meet, and I pull the sheets higher up.
"Good night, Bill."

"Good night."

I turn over, my back to him. Sleep doesn’t come. Instead, I lie there, staring into the dark, wide awake.

It feels like I’ve just drifted off when a sharp, repetitive sound cuts through the silence.

An alarm. Bill’s? Or mine?

I grab for my phone on the nightstand, squinting as I crack one eye open. Not mine.

With a tired sigh, I roll to the other side. Bill’s still out, eyes closed, completely unfazed as his alarm blares louder by the second.

"Bill," I mumble, my voice thick with sleep. "Turn it off."

"Mmh." No movement. No effort. Just a barely-there sound.

"Bill," I say again, firmer this time.

Still nothing.

I groan softly and lean over him, fumbling for his phone. I manage to silence the alarm and let his phone fall between us on the bed.

“You have to get up,” I whisper, gently nudging his shoulder.

“I know,” he murmurs, eyes still closed.

A soft smile tugs at my lips. There’s something about the way he’s lying here beside me, that stirs something deep in me.

A warmth. A feeling I haven’t felt in a very long time.

I wait a few more minutes. Enjoying this moment a little longer.

"Bill?" I try again.

He opens his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the sunlight shining through the curtains.


We took turns in the bathroom. Not that I needed much time. I had nothing with me, not even a toothbrush.

So I fixed as much as I could, put my hair in a messy bun and brushed my teeth using my fingers.

I sit on the bed, waiting for Bill to enter the room again. My legs fidgetting up and down, my fingers fumbling. A sign that I'm nervous.

When the door opens, I stop. Hiding whatever I'm feeling.

He steps out, his bare chest catching my eyes. My eyes snap away, looking at the first thing I find, as long as it's not him.

I wait for him to put a shirt on, before I look at him again. I stand up.
"Ready?"

He nods. "How will you get home? Is someone picking you up?"

I shake my head. "No, I'll take the bus."

"I'll get you an uber." He says, already typing on his phone.

"I'll take the bus." I say again.

No reaction.

"Bill?" He eyes meet mine, and he stops whatever he was doing. "I can take the bus."

"An uber is faster."

"And more expensive."

"Don't worry about that." He looks at his phone again, typing.

"Bill, can you stop doing that?" I say, annoyed.

"Stop doing what?"

"Paying for me."

"It's just an uber. It's not that expensive." He says, looking from his phone to me.

"Maybe not. But my car was."

He sighs deeply, his arms falling to his sides.

"I didn’t ask you to do any of this. I don’t want you to."

The words slip, sharp. I watch him freeze—just for a second—before he sets his phone down on the table.

“I didn’t ask for an Uber,” I say flatly.

“No,” he replies, finally meeting my eyes, “but you need one.”

“No, I'm fine with taking the bus.”

"It’s just a ride, it's not a big deal."

I laugh under my breath. “You always say things like they’re simple.”

He shrugs. “Sometimes they are.”

"Maybe for you—because you're Bill Kaulitz, acting like five thousand euros is nothing."

He exhales deeply, opening his mouth to say something, but before he can, I start talking.

"What do you want from me? What do you want in return?"

His eyes widen, but then soften instantly.

"When have I ever asked for something in return? Come one, Evi. You know I'm not like that."

"I know that," I sigh, biting my lower lip, immediately feeling guilty for even thinking like that.

"Fine," he says. "take the bus."

“Thank you.” I reach for my purse, offering him a small smile. “I should go.”

He nods, then takes a step closer. “Maybe we were wrong,” he says, his voice low.

I blink, tilting my head slightly, caught off guard. “Wrong about what?”

“Maybe we can be friends.”

For a moment, I hesitate. Then I stretch my smile a little wider. “Maybe. Yeah… maybe.”

I wrap my arms around him in a quick hug, press a soft kiss to his cheek, and then I turn and walk away.

My heart is pounding, not because of the hug, not because of the kiss…

But because I know I’m still in love with him.
And pretending to be friends might just break me.


Bill:
I watch her walk away, every step pulling her further from me—from us. I wait, silently begging the universe for her to turn around. Just one glance.

But she doesn’t.

If anything, her pace quickens.

How am I supposed to be just friends with her?

And just like that, it hits me—I’m still in love with her.

God, maybe I never stopped. Maybe I was lying to myself this whole time, pretending I’d moved on. Pretending I was okay.

But the truth is... I never let her go. Not really.

I didn’t fall in love with her again.
I’ve just finally admitted that I never stopped.