Mein Herz Brennt Für Dich

Chapter 116

"Oh my God!" I covered my mouth as I started to cry. He was standing right in front of me-he was right there. I was expecting him to come much later, but he was right there. "Till, what are you doing here?!"

"Happy birthday, beautiful," He kissed me and gave me a hug. 

"Till, what are you doing here?"

"It's your birthday. Did you think I was going to leave you alone?"

I grabbed the flowers he was holding-black roses. "My favorite."

"I know."

"Sorry about the yelling."

"It's fine."

"I don't normally yell-I've just been a little stressed out lately."

"How come?"

"I don't know."

I shut the door as we walked inside and everyone ran to Till and hugged him. I grinned as I grabbed a vase, put some water in it, then set the roses inside of it. I looked at the end of the room and saw Till standing there staring at me. I couldn't help but run over to him and hug him while crying. 

"I missed you so much," I whispered. 

"I missed you, too."

"I don't want you to leave, Till."

"I'm right here."

We sat down on the couch and watched something on the T.V. When the pizza was done, we ate it, and then they went straight to bed. I changed into my pajamas then walked downstairs to the smell of vanilla. 

I looked at the table and it was filled with lit candles. "Till?" As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was swept up bridal style and attacked with kisses. "Till," I giggled. 

He threw me onto the couch and started violently kissing my neck. 

"Hey," He whispered seductively in my ear, then set me down and stared at me. 

"You're in a good mood."

"I'm always in a good mood when I see you."

"Hmm...that can be debatable."

"Can we talk?"

"About what?"

"Just anything," He grabbed my hand. "I like talking with you."

"Well, I have an interview tomorrow. Can we do it together?"

"I hate interviews."

"Please?"

"Fine."

"You will?"

"Yes."

"Thanks...Till?"

"Hm?" 

I sat down directly in front of him and he massaged my shoulders. "How do you come up with song ideas?"

"What do you mean?"

"I was talking with a Rammstein fan and you wrote a song about a man digging up his woman from the grave and fucking her dead corpse, you wrote one about a hermaphrodite who can love him (or her)self whenever they want to, you wrote a song about a man who has an affair with his piano teacher, finds out she's cheating on him, so he kills her. You've written more, but I can't think about any."

"I don't know. They just to me," He said as I gasped due to the pain. "Sorry."

"It's fine, just move over to the right a little bit."

He shifted his hands to the right and continued to massage. "I just enjoy coming up with stories in my head and writing about them."

"Like the book of poems you have?"

"Hmm...similar in a way. Writing songs is different than writing poems. With lyrics, you have to find the rhythm and think about all the different instruments, whereas with the poem, you just focus on the story."

"So...what do you like better?"

"I like them both equally."

"But what do you like better?"

"I don't have a preference."

"I'll find out about it someday, Till Lindemann. And when I do...you're going to be in some deep shit."

He chuckled and kissed my shoulder. "I bet so."

"And you also wrote a song about a schoolgirl getting raped."

"Yes I did."

"Do Nele and Marie Louise know what you're saying?"

"Yeah, but I don't let them listen to all of my songs. It's kind of like the same thing with Grayson and Slipknot."

"Oh, yeah. He'll grow out of it."

"Hmm...I don't think he will."

"Whatever. I've known him longer. I'm actually really not that big of a fan that he likes Slipknot."

"Why?"

"Well, the lyrics. They literally have a song that goes, 'I'll fuck your wound' or some shit like that-I really don't care. I just don't like that being put into his mind. Music can really affect people."

"He just needs to know his boundaries."

"Which is why I don't let him listen to explicit music. I will let him when he's 13."

"He's 12, right?"

"Yep. Do you want to go take a bath?"

"But I lit all the candles down here already."

"We can bring them upstairs," I got off and looked at him. "Please?"

"I never objected."

"Yippee!"

We grabbed all of the candles, moved them to our bathroom, then started the bath. Once it was filled, he slid in and then I laid down on top of him. 

"Is it weird that I don't really want to have sex?" I asked him. 

"No, neither do I," He ran his fingers through my hair continuously.

"I love you, Till."

"I love you, Rilla."

"No, I love you."

"No, I love you."

"Stop copying me."

"Fine. Next year you're going to be the big four o!"

"Shut up, Till. You know how I feel about it."

"No need to be embarrassed. You don't look 40."

"You don't look like you're in your forties."

"I get that a lot."

I chuckled and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you're back."

"I'm glad I'm here."

"How long are you staying for?"

"However long you want me to."

"Forever?"

"How about two weeks?"

"It's better than nothing."