𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴

𝕽𝖊𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖙

"These people! I guess they'll never find a life and start minding their own business," Bill said, standing up and pulling me up with him. "Come on, let's get some shots and finally have some fun," he gave me a smile before shouting for the people who were still taking pictures of us to 'back the fuck up.' Wow, I always had the impression that he was really polite, even to paparazzi, but I guess this is what the phrase 'dark side of fame' means – fame changes people.

Bill signaled the bartender for a couple of shots, and as we clinked glasses, I couldn't shake the feeling that my life was no longer my own. It now belonged to society, and I knew I would never fully get it back.

"You get used to it," Bill said, after I brought it up, his voice feeling unnaturally calm, since we were in a nightclub. "But it's hard to stay the same when everyone expects something from you. It's like living in a fishbowl."

"But what do you think? If you were still the same person you were before you became famous, just older, would your life be any different?" I asked. I don't know why I thought that it would help with the mood right now.

"Look, I was a poor, scared, naive boy who had a dream of being rich and getting his family out of that shithole we were in. When 'Durch den Monsun' blew up, I thought that we would finally be living our dream. But little did we know, it all went downhill from then. I mean, we were rich, millions of people were listening to our music, we were really successful at the time, we still are, but when all the hate started and the countless death threats, it was just too much. I wasn't the same anymore. I learned not to trust everything I'm told, not to express myself too much, and to always watch my back. And then you came around, and I saw that you were different right away. I knew I could trust you with everything."

As Bill spoke, his words felt heavy, and his expression was sad. I've heard George's side of this story, and I've seen the hate over the years, but it felt so special to hear it from him. The pulsating music of the nightclub seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the honesty in his voice.

"But what if you could go back?" I pressed gently, genuinely curious about his perspective.

Bill looked thoughtful for a moment, his eyes searching for an answer in the midst of memories. "I wouldn't change the success. The music, the fans, the opportunities – they've been incredible. But I do miss the simplicity of being just a person. Going to a store without being followed, kissing someone without it being all over internet or just taking a walk without people watching all the time. It's like the more famous you become, the more you lose touch with the ordinary aspects of life."

He emptied another shot glass, contemplating the hypothetical scenario. "Maybe if I could go back, I'd try to hold onto a piece of that simplicity. Keep a part of myself untouched by the fame. But it's tricky. Once the world knows you, they want to shape you into something they can understand, something they can sell."

I nodded, absorbing his words and the vulnerability he shared.

"And you," he turned the conversation back to me with a small smile, "you're like a breath of fresh air. Remind me that there's still room for authenticity in all this bulshit. So, thank you for that."

I smiled at his words, the expression on his face making me blush. "Your music," I began, "it's so beautiful, but sometimes so painful. I mean, except for some songs that are just real bangers. Y'all are geniuses, sometimes I can't believe I'm actually related to one of you." We both had a laugh.

The atmosphere had changed, and there was no heavy silence hanging in the air. For a few more hours, we cracked jokes, laughed, danced, and at some point, even made out. It was almost 3 in the morning when we finally stumbled outside, almost pushing a woman in front of a speeding car.

"How are we getting home?" I asked him. I'm sure it sounded nothing like that with all the alcohol I've consumed tonight.

He started giggling. "You're so drunk," he continued laughing, pointing his finger at me. I started giggling as well. "No shit, so are you!"

We decided to call a taxi. It wasn't so funny anymore when he stumbled and fell on the steps leading to the front door, taking me down with him. It took me quite a while to get him back up and inside, considering how drunk we both were. The dude is more than six feet tall and weighs probably almost twice as much as me. Although, in that moment, it felt like all of our problems had disappeared.

Georg's pov:

*The next morning*

"Hallo?" Bill answered my call.

"Had some fun yesterday, huh?" I asked as calmly as I could. It was dead silent on the other end of the line, so I continued talking. "Don't worry, Georg, she'll be safe with me." I mocked him. "Was really fun taking her to a club and getting drunk, wasn't it? Sounds really safe to me. And I won't even mention the photos of you two making out that are going all over Twitter under a hashtag 'billsnewgirlfriend.' Care to explain?"

He cleared his throat. He was probably just woken up by my call. "Listen, after you told me what she had to put up with while we were gone, I thought that she could use some fun. I can go check on her if you want, but she's probably still sleeping," he explained, his voice sounding tired and a bit confused.

"Oh, so out of all the 'fun' things you could do, you decided that it would be the best idea to go to a crowded club, publicly make out with her, and get so drunk you both can't even get inside the fucking house properly?" I held a small pause in case he had something to add before I continued. "I'm always up for partying, but this is my sister we're talking about. What would you do if Markus came around and attacked her? Have you seen the guy? Have you seen what he can do? Because I have." I felt my voice break as I became silent, painful memories of my sister lying in the hospital bed flooding back. She was only 14.

"I'm sorry, Georg," a faint whisper escaped his lips. There was so much I wanted to scream at him, so much I hadn't said yet, that I wanted to let out, but I couldn't. I could hear the pain in his voice as, probably, a few scenarios of possible situations that could have unfolded last night came up in his mind. As Lolita's older brother, I was furious with his presumptuousness, but as his best friend, it pained me to hear the amount of regret in his words.

"Never, and I mean ever, put my sister in danger like that again," I warned him. But then my expression softened. "But I forgive you, Bill. You're my best friend."